


All the Stars (Are Closer)

by joidianne4eva



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Related, Blood and Violence, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Erik has no chill, Homophobia, I'm crying, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Loki/Tony Stark, Pray for mandla, Racism, SO MUCH SHADE, Shuri has no time for your foolishness Erik, Survivor Guilt, T'Challa has no chill, There's A Tag For That, Transphobia, fighting isn't flirting you idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-03-27 01:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: Despite the ache in his jaw T’Challa smiled at Erik, he was going to enjoy this.“Hey, fiancé,” he greeted in a mockery of Erik’s accent as he pressed the button on his own cuffs and Erik slumped like his strings had been cut.“That had better be a fucking joke,” he growled as he tried to hold himself up on shaking arms, unused muscles protesting his actions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll thought I walked into Black Panther and walked out without ideas? I did the W'Kabi rock out of there with these two in my head.

One of the things that T’Challa thought about while he sat by Erik’s side was the look on the man’s face when his mother had responded to his insolent greeting.

Erik’s expression had twisted with fury the second that the words had left the Queen Mother’s lips.

“You are my relation in name alone. Just as your father was royalty.”

The words had barely fazed T’Challa, he’d grown with his mother’s sharp tongue but Erik hadn’t. He’d clung to the words written in his father’s notes, notes that T’Challa now possessed and there wasn’t a single thing there that had ever told the man that N’Jobu was not of their blood, that he was a child the king had taken in and given as much right as his own to the throne.  

In one fell swoop Ramonda had yanked the rug from beneath Erik’s feet and his determination became almost frenzied instead of the cold and calculated approach T’Challa had observed before.

Even at the end Erik had clung to the idea but the fact that the foundation of Erik’s approach had been a lie hadn’t stopped the trials because N’Jobu wasn’t blood but he was royalty…like his mother had said, in name.

Pressing his fingers above his eye sockets T’Challa rubbed gently at the beginning throb of a headache.

There had been angry words and even colder silences when the council had learned of T’Challa’s plans to keep Erik alive but he refused to back down.

Erik deserved to live. He deserved a chance to see the life that he’d been promised. He deserved to know his people and where he’d come from…to see more than just one sunset.

The man’s words…his demands to be buried in the ocean had clawed open a hole in T’Challa’s chest, one that was slowly filling the longer he watched Erik rest and recover.

“He’s not going to wake up before I let him so could you please stop haunting my lab?” Shuri huffed, eying the flickering vitals above Erik’s body.

“It’s quiet here,” T’Challa responded honestly and Shuri snorted at that.  

“Barely,” she muttered as she sat on the empty stool by Erik’s feet. “I don’t know if it’s in my head but I swear I can hear the council from here.”

“Bast willing they’ll lose their voices soon,” T’Challa muttered, his lips quirking into a small smile when Shuri cackled.

The sound trailed off and in the silence T’Challa could feel his little sister staring at him.

“Do you think you did the right thing?” Shuri asked.

T’Challa lifted his head only to find Shuri staring at Erik. “He tried to kill you. He killed Zuri.”

The words made rage swell in T’Challa’s gut but he swallowed it down. Zuri had known what he was doing when he offered himself up to Erik…in some ways the man must have seen it as penance for a secret that should never have been hidden.

“He did,” he agreed because there was nothing else he could say.

“Then why are we saving him?” Shuri implored her eyes filled with tears.

It was easy to forget that Shuri was little more than a child. Her intelligence, enthusiasm and wisdom often meant that her age was the last thing that people looked at.

Reaching out T’Challa waited until she grasped his hand before offering her a small smile.

“Because it is the right thing to do, he should never have been left behind and while that was not your mistake or mine, we are in a position to correct the wrong our father did.”

“What if he tries to hurt you again?” Shuri demanded with a frown.

“Then I will accept any punishment you think he deserves but only if he hurts me,” he grinned at her scowl. “I am not easily hurt.”

Shuri scoffed, yanking her hand from his but not before aiming a kick at his shins that he allowed her because he deserved it…also he was wearing the boots she’d made him so he didn’t feel a thing.

“The council will want him controlled,” Shuri pointed out and T’Challa laced his fingers together.

“They want him caged but I will give him a leash instead,” he muttered.

“And where exactly will you find this leash?”

The demand in Shuri’s voice made T’Challa grin. It’d been a while since he’d worked with his little sister on a project but he had not doubt that between the two of them they’d come up with something.

*O*

“Have you lost your mind?” Ramonda hissed, yanking T’Challa into her private rooms, away from prying ears.

King or not, he went willingly because his mother’s ire was something to be avoided at all costs.

“Please,” T’Challa implored but his mother was having none of it.

“You would save a man that tried to kill you.”

“He failed,” T’Challa added sotto voce but Ramonda jus barrelled over him.

“He ripped my heart from my chest for the second time,” she snarled even though the hand that she reached out with was gentle and T’Challa leaned into her palm as she rested it against his cheek. “I could not breathe, I watched him kill you. I watched you die and you want him to walk freely in my presence? You want me to smile and pretend that I’m pleased when a murderer stands in my presence?”

T’Challa clenched his eyes tight at the pain in her voice, forcing himself to breathe as he stepped back.

“I’m asking you to be my mother and allow me to right a wrong that never should have happened.”

“And there is no other way than to keep him here?” Ramonda demanded, her eyes narrowing when T’Challa shook his head.

“He will try to hurt you again,” she whispered, moving so that she could meet his gaze as he turned away. “He will hurt you because he has been hurt and he won’t stop until he is dead or you are. That is the type of man that you invite into your home. You can protect yourself but what of Shuri?”

“Don’t,” T’Challa snapped, exhaling slowly as he bowed his head. “Don’t…I know what I’m doing may seem stupid even selfish but you were not there, you did not see…” he trailed off, turning away.

“What did you see?” Ramonda asked and this time her voice was soft and cajoling and T’Challa found that he couldn’t resist it.

Instead he found himself folding into the chair that she urged him towards, eyes closed against the images that he’d had to beg his baba to show him.

“His D’Jalia is an apartment building, an empty room with the blood of his father still staining the carpet. He has nothing, he is lost. How can you ask me to turn my back on that? Yes, he has done wrong but he has done good too both in the name of a government who was there for him when we were not!”

He didn’t realize that he’d raised his voice until it echoed back to his own ears, making him cringe as he opened his eyes  

“I don’t seek to make a saint of him because he is a man, he made his own decisions but what was done to him influenced that. I want to give him a chance to be the man he can be.”

“The man he could be or the one you wish he could be?” Ramonda shot back and T’Challa shrugged.

“Whichever he chooses, I want him to have a choice.”

His mother sighed as she stepped up to him, arms open and he buried his face in her stomach as she stroked his hair.

“You are more my son than you were ever your father’s and that scares me,” she whispered, coaxing his face from his hiding place. “Do not let your heart lead you astray.”

“If I do I have you to put me back in my place,” he teased and the smile his word got him was a small broken thing but a smile nonetheless.

“If it comes to it, you have a bargaining chip in the fact that you have sent your American friends away. The council was closer to mutiny than you would like to know and I’m too old to rule.”

T’Challa snorted, “You haven’t aged in years.”

“I have, I just age well,” she laughed and the sound was real. T’Challa clung to it long after he’d left her.

*O*

“You would have an usurper walk as one of us?”

T’Challa resisted the urge to massage his temples as the same question that had been asked at least ten times since he sat down for the meeting was thrown at him again, this time by the mining tribe elder.

“He was not an usurper, he had a right to challenge and he did,” he explained slowly as if to a child a fact that she had definitely noticed if the gimlet eye she cast his way was anything to go by. “He was no more an usurper than M’Baku.”

M’Baku perked up at his name only to frown in disappointment when no one latched onto that particular topic. The Jabari leader had been spoiling for a fight from the second he stepped into the council room but the longer the meeting carried on the less the man paid attention to them.

“He has no right to be here,” the water tribe elder spat and T’Challa ached for Nakia because at least her presence often tempered her father’s flare for dramatics but Nakia was meant for better things and T’Challa was no fool, he knew that pursuing her would end with their friendship in ruins. He’d rather have Nakia as a friend than not at all.

“He is of our blood,” T’Challa sighed.

“He did not care about that when he tried to use us for weapons,” the man spat and T’Challa closed his eyes before counting to ten.

It did little to help him but when he opened his eyes M’Baku was smirking at him in a way that had the hairs on the back of T’Challa’s neck standing on end.

“A jaguar is a solitary creature but it is opportunistic, I would think twice about letting one in your house,” M’Baku noted.

Absolute silence greeted his words and T’Challa glowered at him because he could see the smirk playing at the corner of M’Baku’s lips.

“I’m joking of course. What do you think I sit around and ask Hanuman about cats? If anything I’d ask about wood.”

Behind M’Baku’s chair Mandla bowed his head, “The Jabari tribe offers their apologies. Our meetings are often held in secret.”

M’Baku frowned up at his younger brother. “What meetings?”

“Exactly,” Mandla responded, expression still blank and T’Challa struggled to hide his snort of laughter…an urge that vanished with M’Baku’s next words.

“If you were of the Jabari this would be resolved easily. If you cannot kill him, marry him. That way he has nothing to gain from usurping you as on your death your throne would go to the next in line for succession and not to him.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Ramonda demanded in an echo of what she’d said to T’Challa before.

“This is madness,” shouted the merchant tribe elder as the water tribe elder glowered at M’Baku who looked especially pleased with himself.

“Of course, if such a thing is beneath you…”

“I accept.”

The words were out of T’Challa’s mouth before he knew it and he couldn’t take them back not even when the council erupted into pandemonium.

With Nakia gone, he would be expected to marry another to continue the line of succession but it was time for change and it was only fair that the change start with the king.

*O*

Shuri stared at T’Challa, “I don’t know which thing I want to be angry about,” she groused before turning away. “Are you sure?”

“About marrying him? No. About waking him? Also, no but do it,” T’Challa instructed as he leaned over Erik, fastening the vibranium cuffs around Erik’s wrists.

Rolling her eyes Shuri pressed the button and Erik woke swinging.

His left fist caught T’Challa square in the jaw sending them to the ground when Erik tried to scramble off the bed only for his legs to give out beneath him, leaving him braced above T’Challa, eyes narrowed and a snarl twisting his lips.

“The fuck?”

Despite the ache in his jaw T’Challa smiled at the man, he was going to enjoy this.

“Hey, fiancé,” he greeted in a mockery of Erik’s accent as he pressed the button on his own cuffs and Erik slumped like his strings had been cut.

“That had better be a fucking joke,” he growled as he tried to hold himself up on shaking arms, weakened muscles protesting his actions.

“Until death do us part as you Americans like to say,” T’Challa taunted, Erik’s fury had his amusement growing in leaps and bounds because Erik was alive and T’Challa had a chance to fix what his baba had almost wrecked in his drive to protect them all.

“Hold still and death will do us part before you fucking know it,” Erik snapped.

“Save it for your wedding night,” Shuri spat and when T’Challa tilted his head back he found her glaring down at them. “Now get off of my brother before I shoot you myself.”

They were off to such a good start.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly I've got work so any updates are gonna slow down from now on. 
> 
> Violence is not flirting Erik ffs!

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Erik seethed as T’Challa turned another page of his report seemingly unconcerned of the other man’s presence.

The sizzle and pop of the barrier being stressed had T’Challa arching a brow but he still didn’t look up. It wouldn’t do to reward bad behaviour…also Erik couldn’t get out of Shuri’s version of time out without T’Challa’s say-so and at present T’Challa was fine with leaving his intended to cool off while he finished his paperwork.

He hadn’t expected to use the cuffs so early but given Erik’s earlier attempts to throttle him, he decided that the best thing to was give them both a bit of time apart…or at least keep Erik as far away from his desk as he could.

Not that Erik’s ire seemed to be waning in the least.

“You can’t keep me in here forever,” Erik snarled and T’Challa sighed, cocking his head while glancing at the other man only to find Erik glowering at him, his fingers curled into fists.

“I’m not keeping you here. The barrier only stops you from attacking while I work,” he explained, keeping his expression blank when Erik sneered at him.

“You saying I can just leave then?” he demanded.

T’Challa gestured at the open door. “Be my guest, however the cuffs will not allow you to go far.”

“They gonna kill me?” Erik asked. T’Challa shook his head and that seemed to be all Erik was waiting for because in the next second he was out the door and heading down the hall, not pausing to acknowledge the Dora Milaje who lined the way.

Watching Erik’s back, T’Challa noticed the way the loping stride faltered and shifted into something of a limp even as Erik’s frame tensed.

He kept pushing though and T’Challa’s knowledge of the other man’s pride was the only thing that kept him sitting when Erik’s steps faltered, his legs giving out beneath him sending him crashing to the floor on hands and knees.

“Would you like some help, dearest?” T’Challa called out and the middle finger that he got was answer enough for him but apparently not enough for Erik.

“Fuck off and die,” he shouted back, his tone weaker than it had been as he continued to try to push against the cuffs despite the fact that the further away from T’Challa he travelled the more the cuffs would consume his strength.

“Insolent creature,” Okoye snorted from where she’d been watching the entire debacle on her way towards the office.

“You can fuck off and die too, lady,” Erik snapped as he used the wall to pull himself to his feet.

“Age before beauty,” Okoye retorted and Erik paused to frown at her as she slowed her steps to match his when he decided that discretion was the better part of valour and headed back towards T’Challa. “It is like watching a baby antelope. Very little use other than for aesthetics,” she commented dryly.

“Hey, is she supposed to be flirting with me ‘cause I sort of feel like the last spider standing in front of a black widow.”

“A black widow would be kinder,” T’Challa laughed, standing so he could salute Okoye as Erik slunk back to the sofa that he’d originally claimed as his own.

“Can we speak freely with your gargoyle of a fiancé lurking in the background?” Okoye inquired, doing little to keep her voice quiet but Erik didn’t respond to the taunt, instead he turned his back to them as he curled up on the sofa, a deliberate move and most likely an insult in Erik’s head.

“He will find out at the council meeting anyway,” T’Challa pointed out as both permission and a question. If the information was too sensitive for the council then Erik didn’t need to hear it.

Okoye nodded in understanding and took the seat that T’Challa waved her to.

“You have a message from M’Baku,” she started; her expression curiously cold and T’Challa leaned forward in his seat, indicating for her to continue. “He sends his apologies as he will not be able to attend your lavish wedding…” Erik snorted at that but Okoye ignored him. “…though he has recommended that you use a bridle on your wedding night to make sure you do not lose anything of substance.”

The snort grew into something of a cackle at Okoye’s words and T’Challa rolled his eyes.

“He can rest assure that my intended will return to Bast in the same condition I found him.”

“You planning on stabbing me again then or was that an innuendo?”

“It speaks,” Okoye noted and Erik turned just enough to glower at her.

T’Challa sighed at the interaction regaining his General’s attention.

“The Americans have demanded that you release him to their care as he is one of theirs,” she continued and this much T’Challa had expected.

“He is Wakandan by blood and consort to the king. Do they truly expect us to hand him over to them on a whim?”

“They won’t care about any of that. All they’ll want is to see what they can get out me. I’ve got lots of secrets and Wakanda is just the tip of the iceberg,” Erik muttered, still not deigning to give them his full attention.

“For all purposes you are dead and dead men tell no tales,” Okoye pointed out.

“Gonna be hard to convince them about that when I’m supposed to be the royal ball and chain.”

“It was the only way to save you from the council or would you rather be locked away and forgotten?”

That got Erik’s attention but he didn’t look at Okoye even though she was the one who’d issued the threat, instead his eyes met T’Challa’s, the look in them cold and deadly.

“Try me, these cuffs are annoying but I can deal with an annoyance,” Erik whispered, his voice carrying in the silence. “You try to cage me and I’ll burn this fucking place down around your ears.”

T’Challa’s fingers curled, rage beating at his temples. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” Erik replied, holding his gaze steadily.

There was an answer on T’Challa’s tongue but he swallowed it, instead spreading his hands wide in supplication, ignoring the curious look that Okoye levelled on him.

He remembered the look in Erik’s eyes from before, the determination, the resignation but most of all the fear.

Death meant an escape for Erik, so much so that he’d idealized it in a way that T’Challa wasn’t sure that he even understood.

“You are a problem,” Okoye noted, her eyes placid as she stared at T’Challa. “But you are a Wakandan problem. If the Americans come for you they will have to go through us first. No Wakandan deserves to be buried anywhere but with our ancestors, dead or not you belong to us.”

“That makes me feel warm and fuzzy,” Erik sneered and Okoye bared her teeth at him in something that could have been seen as a smile.

*O*

If nothing else Erik was a quick learner. After the third time the cuffs had him on his knees he seemed to have figured the distance he could stray away from T’Challa before triggering the failsafe. He stayed at the edges of it, prowling the space like a big cat and the image made T’Challa smile.

Erik was dangerous but he was also entertaining and T’Challa wasn’t above enjoying himself at the younger man’s expense.

“You done with your homework?” Erik demanded, huffing when T’Challa simply signed the sheet he was on before pulling another from the large stack. “Ain’t you bored?”

“No I am not,” T’Challa responded, reading another section of the proposed changes to the merchant tribe’s security. He would have to run it by Okoye but he could see no problem in increasing the vibranium concentration used in the tents to ensure that the shields they boasted were stronger than before…there was the question of keeping account of all the vibranium. If Erik had taught him one thing it was that his biggest threat could exist right beneath his nose.

“Fuck,” Erik groaned, rolling off the sofa in a controlled drop that landed him on his stomach. Erik barely paused before he pushed himself up on his hands and toes. It took a few repetitions for T’Challa to realize that he’d been watching the man doing push ups like it was more important than the papers he was absentmindedly rubbing his fingers across.

Forcing his gaze back to the important documentation he needed to concentrate on T’Challa didn’t notice Erik’s smirk.

*O*

Erik draped himself over the seat they’d allowed him, watching M’Baku upside down. The Jabari leader returned the gaze blankly without moving a single muscle until Erik turned away. T’Challa had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the two supposedly grown men. Mandla didn’t have any such qualms and he rolled his eyes so hard that T’Challa was certain it had to hurt.

“Hear you’re not coming to see me get married off,” Erik addressed M’Baku. “Can’t say you’re really my type but I can see why you’d be jealous.”

“If I was forced to accept you as a spouse I’d feed myself to Hanuman…”

“Harsh but I still hear the envy,” Erik cut in.

“Inch by Inch, starting with my eyeballs,” M’Baku continued. “Or maybe my ears, that way I would not be forced to listen to your mouth.”

Erik rolled like a snake at that, coming up onto his knees before settling in his chair like a normal human being.

“I’m real good with my mouth…don’t believe me ask your king.”

“Please don’t,” Mandla sighed just as M’Baku opened his mouth, probably to do just that.

Sighing, T’Challa turned from their conversation.

“I feel like I was tricked into this,” he commented, frowning up at Okoye when she scoffed.

“No one tricked you. You are just a fool for a pretty face and I was a fool to believe that you were too distracted by Nakia to notice one especially when he was trying to kill you at every turn,” she replied, her gaze never once dipping to T’Challa. “Or maybe that was exactly why you accepted M’Baku’s challenge. You’ve never been good at admitting defeat and he beat you once.”

“Once, when I was emotionally distraught,” T’Challa retorted.

“Make sure it stays at once. I would hate to think that all my time spent training you was for nothing,” she replied, her lips twitching minutely. “Though I hear he did beat a black widow once so I might be expecting too much of you.”

T’Challa wanted to reply but the arrival of the first of the elders had him biting his tongue in favour of appearing as respectable as he could.

*O*

“Well that was fun,” Erik laughed as T’Challa shoved him from the council room, leaving the shouting behind them.

“Must you make a nuisance of yourself when I’m trying to save your life?” T’Challa snarled.

Erik shrugged, stretching before scratching at his stomach. “I’ve gotta find something to kill time. It’s not like you’re being any fun with your turn the other cheek approach to this shit.”

“You think I’ve forgiven you?” T’Challa demanded stepping up into Erik’s space and that got the other man’s attention because he straightened, tilting his head so that he could stare down his nose at T’Challa. “You killed the only man I would call father other than the one of my blood. You spat upon our traditions, burned our heritage and threatened my family,” exhaling T’Challa stepped back, arms spread wide. “I haven’t forgiven you and I haven’t forgotten either.”

“Guess we’re almost equal then,” Erik noted but there was no trace of his usual taunts in the words and T’Challa inclined his head in acknowledgment before starting to walk again.

They were nowhere near equal but tallying loss for loss would give neither of them any joy.

“You said you were bored,” T’Challa noted and Erik eyed him.

“I’ve been saying that since you slapped this shit on me,” Erik pointed out, shaking his wrists like T’Challa wasn’t aware of the cuffs.

“Come with me and we will see about fixing that,” T’Challa replied ignored the muttered words that followed him as he led Erik to the training rooms.

“Like I’ve got any choice but to follow you,” Erik muttered more to himself than to anyone else. 

*O*

Erik arched a brow when T’Challa led him into the cavernous space that housed the Dora Milaje training facility.

The space was empty except for a large boxing ring as the other equipment could only be released from storage by Okoye or a member of the royal family but T’Challa had a feeling that he didn’t need anything special for what he wanted to do.

Erik caught the wraps and gloves he tossed the man’s way and by the time T’Challa had finished wrapping his own hands Erik was already ripping open the new mouth guard that had been sealed in the gloves that he’d left at his feet.

He bared his teeth when T’Challa glanced at him but T’Challa wasn’t about to let himself be provoked, he just dropped his own gloves and kicked them out of the way before stepping forward.

They both needed this or he was going to do something he regretted.

Holding his arms out he was surprised when Erik stepped closer so that they could bump their fists together.

Stepping back he breathed and felt the cuffs respond to his thoughts, dialling back its hold on Erik’s strength and the other man must have felt it too because he grinned and threw the first punch.

T’Challa ducked it coming up beneath Erik’s guard as he aimed at the man’s stomach but Erik was expecting that and he spun out of the way catching T’Challa with a vicious backhand that had blood welling up in his mouth.

The bite of pain made the panther snarl in T’Challa’s blood and he grabbed Erik’s arm yanking him close and this time Erik wasn’t quick enough to avoid his blow.

His knee slammed into Erik’s gut hard enough to knock the wind out of him and the sound he made had a snarl riding T’Challa’s breath. He’d missed this, missed the ability to fight for the pleasure of it and not have to pull his punches and he’d bet that Erik missed it too after three months with nothing to do other than follow him around.

He danced back out of range as Erik straightened, his eyes blazing when T’Challa beckoned him forward.

He ducked the first punch but he couldn’t duck Erik.

The man slammed into him like a train sending them both to the floor.

Twisting T’Challa grinned at Erik then head-butted him so hard that the world seem to swim for a moment as they both caught their bearings.

He wasn’t sure when it turned into an all-out brawl but it might have had something to do with the fact that Erik thought losing his mouth guard was reason enough to use his teeth.

A piercing siren had both of them scrambling off each other, shifting into their respective stances as they face the threat only to find Okoye standing in front of them with Shuri peering over her shoulder, her eyes wide and when T’Challa reached out wipe the swept from his face his hand came away bloody.

“If you two are finished,” Okoye frowned glancing at Erik who was grinning like a lunatic even though his eye was already swelling and his chin was dripping with blood. “Perhaps you would like to sit down and have a conversation so Shuri isn’t any more traumatized.”

“Why are men like this?” Shuri demanded and T’Challa shifted uncomfortably when she glanced between him and Erik.

“Just a little bit of flirting, princess,” Erik smirked and the middle finger Shuri shot his way was no surprise to T’Challa though the speculative look she levelled on him made his skin prickle.

“Erik needed to work out some of his energy,” T’Challa offered up, keeping his expression as innocent as he could even as the bite on his shoulder throbbed the longer he stood still.

Shuri just snorted, following Okoye as the general left the room.

“Don’t think this means I like you,” Erik muttered, breaking the silence.

T’Challa huffed, prodding at his healing lip. “Bast forbid,” he laughed and he was just quick enough to catch the curl of Erik’s lips as the man turned away.

He was almost certain that Shuri would report back to his mother but not even the thought of the oncoming lecture could douse the flame of hope in his chest.

He could almost feel a break through or maybe that was the concussion he was almost certain he’d given himself…Erik was hard-headed in more than one way it seemed.


	3. Chapter 3

T’Challa pressed his index finger to his lips as he stared across his office. He was vaguely aware of Erik reading something in his usual corner but seeing as he’d gotten the papers from Shuri T’Challa wasn’t too concerned. Instead his mind kept flitting back to the council and the upcoming meeting about what to do with W’Kabi and those who’d chosen to follow him.

W’Kabi had been his friend, as close as a brother and now T’Challa was expected to pass judgement on him like he was a stranger.

W’Kabi’s betrayal was twofold, he hadn’t just hurt T’Challa but he’d hurt Okoye and the women she’d trained…he’d hurt their family.

Okoye hadn’t said a word about it but T’Challa had known her long enough to see the tightening of her lips and the tenseness of her muscles, whenever someone mentioned W’Kabi, as the anger and grief it really was.

Running his fingers over his kimoyo beads T’Challa glanced once more at Erik before activating the privacy screen that would prevent the other man from listening in on his call.

The beads hummed as they reached out across the distance between Wakanda and Nakia but the image that appeared above T’Challa’s wrist wasn’t the one he’d expected.

“Mr Stark?”

Stark jerked upright, his image flickering as it stabilized enough for T’Challa to take in the man’s widened eyes.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Stark spluttered, “And I told you the name’s Tony, Mr Stark…well you know how that goes,” Stark…no, Tony paused here narrowing his eyes at T’Challa. “Did she set you up to this? I thought she was just trying to distract me with these.”

T’Challa snorted; a smile playing at his lips as he listened to the man rant about Nakia’s supposed great betrayal.  He hadn’t had the chance to contact Tony lately but seeing him now T’Challa was sure that something had changed. The tightness around his lips and the furtive motion that he’d become familiar with had all but vanished, leaving behind the familiar hyperactive state that T’Challa was familiar with because of Shuri.

“Would you let the man speak?” Nakia’s familiar voice cut in as she appeared over Tony’s shoulder, grinning at him and T’Challa’s heart skipped a beat at her visage. “My king,” she greeted, laughing when T’Challa rolled his eyes.

“Do I want to know why you’re bribing Tony with your beads?” he asked, ignoring her address.

“It’s not a bribe…” Tony scowled at the same time Nakia cut across him.

“We have found it is the only way we can keep him out of the supposed secret lab that he’s trying to build with Shuri.”

Tony hissed like a soaked cat, “It’s not secret if everyone knows about it.”

“It won’t be anything at all as you’re not making one,” Nakia shot back.

The sound of someone calling her name in the distance caught her attention and without a by your leave she was gone again.

“She actually thinks she’d going to stop us from making it,” Tony scoffed and T’Challa wasn’t going to touch that particular topic with a ten foot pole…though he did make a mental note to keep an eye on Shuri. The last thing he needed was for her to get encouragement.

“You are well then?” T’Challa inquired and Tony grinned.

“I’m getting there,” he responded honestly a second before another voice chimed in.

“Sir has been sleeping and eating regularly on my orders.”

T’Challa blinked in surprise…he knew that voice, had heard it coming from a small device in Shuri’s lab.

“Thank you so much for butting in Jarvis,” Tony muttered.

“Jarvis?” T’Challa asked and this time Tony’s smile looked like it was about to split his face in two.

“Your sister and I do good work so I guess I should introduce you to Jarvis, my best friend after Rhodey of course because they’re both drama queens and there’s a rating system.”

“As an A.I. of sir’s creation I truly believe that I should be ranked above Colonel Rhodes,” Jarvis cut in and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Go take it up with Rhodey,” he muttered but there was something softer in his tone and when he turned his attention back to T’Challa the look continued. “Seriously your little sister’s a gem and I’d fight you for her if I wasn’t scared that she’d try to take over the world if she ever met Pepper.”

T’Challa smiled at that because it was always a pleasure to find someone else who would freely acknowledge Shuri’s worth.

“So I hear congrats is in order?” Tony prompted and T’Challa didn’t have to ask who he’d gotten that information from.

“I am to be married,” he confirmed, his gaze flickering to Erik who was still distracted. When he glanced back at Tony the man was frowning.

“I don’t want to be a downer but is it safe? Rhodey did a bit of digging and let’s just say your fiancé isn’t someone I’d like to go up against without the suit.”

The concern was touching and T’Challa was grateful that they’d been able to navigate the aftermath of everything that had happened before enough to actually create a friendship. 

“It is complicated but for the best,” he allowed and Tony subsided a bit.

“As long as you say so,” he shrugged, glancing off to the side. “I’ve got to run so I’m handing you back.”

“It was good speaking with you again,” T’Challa smiled and Tony cocked his head as if it hadn’t occurred to him that T’Challa would actually enjoy talking to him.

Shaking himself the man beamed, “Back at you.”

A moment later Nakia reappeared on the screen and T’Challa smiled at her.

“What have you done now?” she inquired with a smirk.

“Can I not simply wish to speak to my best friend?” he demanded in response, watching as she threw her head back and laughed.

“No you cannot, especially not when you should be navigating your courtship,” she poked and T’Challa wondered how she could be so at ease speaking of such things so soon.

“It is less navigation and more careful strategy,” he sighed.

“It helps that he’s handsome,” Nakia teased and while T’Challa could admit that he didn’t feel comfortable saying it to her.

“They are speaking of W’Kabi’s punishment,” he whispered and the joy melted from Nakia’s expression in a second. “Imprisonment and execution are options but neither sit well with me. His choice while painful was not against any law. Erik was king when he followed him and when I returned the challenge was not yet formally finished. He simply chose to follow Erik.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this,” Nakia frowned, “He killed our people.”

“So did Erik and his punishment will be sitting by my side for the rest of his life,” T’Challa sighed, rubbing at his temple with his free hand.

Nakia made a soft sound at that, her brows furrowing, “What do you want to do?”

T’Challa shrugged, “I want…” he trailed off. “I want to be a good king, one that I can look back on and feel proud of. I don’t want them buried like yet another secret but if I send them away as War Dogs then I leave us open for attack.”

“Then don’t send them away…at least not from Wakanda,” Nakia offered, her lips twisted into a cold smirk and T’Challa’s eyes widened as he caught on to what she was trying to say.

“M’Baku would never agree,” he frowned, pausing as he considered it because to be fair M’Baku would probably say yes just to be contrary. “I would have to put restrictions in place to keep them safe. They are still my people.”

“Then let them be ambassadors, you already know that M’Baku is against you. An attack from the Jabari would be expected. He can do no more harm there than has already been done.”

“When did you become so wise?” T’Challa queried with a small laugh, one that Nakia didn’t copy. Instead she just stared at him.

“Are you sure about Killmonger?” she asked and T’Challa glanced away from the earnest look on her face.

“I am not but it must be done, it’s my penance.”

“For a crime you never committed. You’re accepting a life sentence,” she pointed out.

T’Challa bowed his head, “He deserves to live, to be free. I can’t change what came before but I can give him this.”

“Even if it means sacrificing your own happiness?” Nakia demanded.

T’Challa smiled at her then, “It is my duty.”

Nakia’s eyes scanned his face for a moment before she offered him a tentative smile of her own. “This is why I am proud to call you my king.”

The call ended shortly after that and when T’Challa glanced at Erik the man was frowning at him but when their eyes met Erik’s gaze dropped back to the papers in his hands.

*O*

T’Challa watched Erik’s lips twist into a bitter snarl as he watched the screen above his head.

There had been several protests over the centres that T’Challa had bought and built and people were comparing them with the riots that had happened in Ferguson.

Shuri had been the one to call their attention to it and T’Challa watched her now, watched as she hugged herself, her eyes never leaving the images on the screen.

Erik paced a few feet away and T’Challa could almost feel the anger radiating from the man’s tense frame as he moved.

“How can they….?” Shuri shook her head, her words failing her for the first time in T’Challa’s memory.

“It’s called racism, Princess,” Erik scoffed. “It’s one thing growing up somewhere where everyone looks like you. For the rest of us this shit is reality. You get gunned down, fucked over and then if you’re really lucky your family might get paid off but that’s only if they can’t find anything to pin to you beforehand.”

T’Challa’s eyes moved back to the screen and the image of blood and a body in the streets.

Gritting his teeth, he turned away, blinking as his eyes stung and when he looked back Erik was watching him.

“You think I just came here to use you but that’s what I was trying to fix,” he spat, “My Pops did his best to keep me safe but after he was gone there was nothing but the system. We basically raised each other, taught the younger ones to keep their heads down, stay in after dark, run if you see a car slowing down in the streets, run faster if it’s a cop car even if you haven’t done anything.”

“What you wanted to do was world domination,” T’Challa snapped back. “It wasn’t about fixing anything; you wanted everyone to hurt because you hurt. You didn’t ask for funds to create safe places, to keep them safe. You asked for weapons, you wanted a war and war doesn’t discriminate.”

“At least I was trying to do something!” Erik snarled and beneath the anger there was a hurt so raw that T’Challa could almost taste it.

Instead of being pulled into an argument T’Challa closed his eyes, crossing his arms behind his back because this wasn’t helping anything.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, aware of Shuri watching them both. “I won’t let you attack people for your own vengeance but I can help…I am trying to help.”

Erik stared at him for a moment, his gaze flickering back to the screen. “Build somewhere safe for more of the kids, the ones like me who never had anybody at their back. The older ones won’t trust you…you don’t get anything for free in this life but the little ones, they don’t know not to trust you yet…”

There was a story hidden in his words but T’Challa didn’t know if he had the stomach to ask.

“Help the old people in the places they’re trying to gentrify,” Erik added and T’Challa nodded because he could work with this.

“They could produce stuff,” Shuri cut in, straightening when the attention shifted to her. “Unemployment is one of the things they keep talking about. If we build companies we can fix that, give them something to work towards.”

Erik cocked his head, his lips shifting into a tiny smile and T’Challa’s gut twisted because the expression was real and he could almost see the Erik that could have been beneath it.

“Now you’re thinking,” he praised and Shuri frowned like she wasn’t sure if she wanted the compliment.

“We will need protection as well,” T’Challa noted, “I’m sure that many War Dogs will accept the opportunity to be reassigned.”

Erik frowned at him, “You mean that? Like you’re not fucking with me?” he demanded.

T’Challa spread his hands wide, “It will go before the council but I can see no reason why not,” he replied, “You are consort to the king and you have proposed something that will strengthen Wakanda’s ties with the outside world. As your intended I will do what I can to accommodate your wish.”

“It’s like a courting gift,” Shuri pointed out and Erik’s eyes widened for a moment.

“Oh,” he whispered, scowling at the floor for a moment. “That’s cool then,” he added before turning his back on them so he could refocus on the screen.

Behind his back Shuri rolled her eyes at him before stepping up to shove him out of the way so she could regain her former spot.

Erik frowned down at her but when Shuri didn’t move out of his space the expression on his face softened and T’Challa grinned.

It was a start.


	4. Chapter 4

T’Challa had realized some time ago that being obsessive was a part of Erik’s character but he hadn’t seen it in action until they’d allowed the man to head the section of their outreach program that focused on the teenagers.

He hadn’t seen Erik for two days and T’Challa wondered if the man had noticed his absence or the fact that the distance between them was much more than what the cuffs would normally afford.

Peering into the control room T’Challa smiled as he leaned against the doorframe, watching Erik talk to a young girl on the screen.

“I swear to God I was gonna deck the idiot but I remembered what you said and I went to the centre,” the teen explained, the scowl on her face softening when Erik grinned at her.

“So you didn’t knock his lights out?” Erik inquired and the shifty look on the teen’s face had him all out cackling.

“I mean I went to the centre first though. Ain’t my fault he was hanging around the next day and he still wanted to talk shit. Hit him with that boop-boop and fucking legged it,” she grinned miming throwing punches.

“They treating you alright at the centre?” Erik asked.

The girl nodded, her hair bobbing with the motion. “Yeah, they’re cool. It’s better than being on the streets, you know? Plus I told them you’d come kick their ass if they tried anything ‘cause you didn’t forget about us when you hooked yourself a king as your sugar daddy.”

T’Challa’s brows rose at that because he hadn’t realized that Erik had kept in contact with anyone from his old neighbourhood but it made sense.

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” Erik spluttered.

The girl held up three fingers, counting them off for each point. “He’s older than you, he’s richer than you and he buys you shit. He’s defo your sugar daddy but I figured they’d be homophobic as hell out there, how’d you manage to catch the only pretty one who doesn’t mind getting down with the get down.”

“Number one, he’s old enough to be your dad…”

“Semantics,” the teen scoffed, “Ain’t like I’m gonna date him but I’ve got eyes, don’t I? Idris Elba could probably be my granddaddy but I’m still gonna stare at him all day.”

“Number two,” Erik continued, “They don’t do that shit here. People just care if you’re strong and I’m not getting down with anything.”

The teen stared at him, “Is that why you’re so pissed off all the time?”

“Goodbye Aneka,” Erik huffed and Aneka smirked before the screen went dead.

“You gonna lurk there all day or do you want something?” Erik demanded and T’Challa straightened from his slouch.

“I was not lurking,” he rebutted.

“You were just standing there listening to my conversation,” Erik pointed.

“I was hoping to have an hour with my intended,” T’Challa shot back and Erik opened his mouth but Okoye beat him to it.

“Please take him. He has not slept in forty-eight hours, he has only left for a shower and food,” she groused, glowering at Erik when he glared at her. “If you do not take him I cannot be held responsible for what we may do in our efforts to keep him safe and healthy.”

“I’m a grown ass man, I know my limits,” Erik scowled.

“She means safe and healthy from them,” T’Challa pointed out.

“You have contacted all the children on the list you gave us, they are safe and they will remain safe as they are under the supervision of our War Dogs,” Okoye cut in when it looked like Erik was going to protest. “Go with the king, let your achievements breathe and settle. They will still be here when you return.”

Erik scowled, his gaze dropping to the mats T’Challa was holding. “We going for a picnic or something?” he demanded and while it wasn’t an agreement, it was something.

“You will have to wait and see,” T’Challa smirked, nodding to the Dora Milaje as he led Erik from the room, his gaze following the shift of Erik’s shirt when the man stretched and unintentionally catching on the curve of Erik’s spine.

He drew his gaze away but his reaction wasn’t fast enough if the tiny curl of Ayo’s lips was to be believed.

*O*

Erik was quiet as T’Challa led them beneath the building’s structure and T’Challa could see the tension in Erik’s muscles when he recognized where they were going but the man didn’t say anything.

The room was empty save for the children T’Challa had asked for assistance and when Erik noticed their presence his demeanour shifted into something less hostile.

“We really doing this again?” he asked.

“It will be different this time,” T’Challa responded, lying in the pit and he waited until Erik copied him before gesturing for the children to come forward.

Erik took the drink offered to him with suspicion but he still accepted it and T’Challa watched as the children buried him before he accepted the genetically recreated heart shaped herb himself and closed his eyes.

When he opened them he was standing in the apartment building he’d seen both in his visions and with his own eyes.

N’Jobu stared up at him from where he was sitting on the mat and T’Challa’s eyes stung even as he fell to his knees, lowering himself fully until his head was pressed to the ground.  He had grieved for his uncle, as a child…longed for the man who could make him smile and never treated him liked he was a prince.

Someone gasped but T’Challa wasn’t sure who.

“I beg your forgiveness for the actions of my father, for what your son has suffered. I did not know. I would not have left him there if I had known but I know that these are words by my actions I will treat him as Bast herself. He has done wrong but so have I.”

Someone touched his head and T’Challa glanced up just to see N’Jobu’s face, his smile bright despite the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You have grown,” N’Jobu whispered and T’Challa could feel his own lips trembling. He wasn’t surprised that his face was wet when he swiped the base of his palm across his left eye.

Erik was staring at them and T’Challa’s gaze met his as he spoke to both father and son.

“I am sorry you were trapped here but I…,” he trailed off as around them the apartment walls began to crack. “It took me some time but we found your body and it was given the respect it deserved. The respect you deserved despite your actions. I want to take you home,” he finished just as the sky spilt apart and the ground vanished beneath their feet.

In the next second they were standing on familiar planes, or at least familiar to him, Erik and N’Jobu were silent as they glanced around them, both their gazes catching on the tree and the black panthers settled there.

T’Challa took a step back as he father stepped forward, his eyes filled with tears.

N’Jobu didn’t give the man a chance to say anything as they embraced, “You have grown so old,” he laughed even as T’Chaka ran his hands all over his face.

“And you never had the chance to,” he responded, his eyes finding Erik over N’Jobu’s shoulder.

Erik cocked his head curiously but said nothing when T’Chaka bowed his head in a symbol of apology.

“It was my own doing but I have seen so much,” N’Jobu laughed. “Our sons are doing what I wanted but not in the way that I aimed to.”

“I was wrong to not listen,” T’Chaka rebutted but N’Jobu shook his head.

“Will we find arguments even in death?” he grinned. “I believe your son just asked for my child’s hand in marriage.”

“Treat him like Bast,” T’Chaka snorted. “The boy has no sense when it comes to romance.”

T’Challa could feel himself flushing especially when Erik eyed him speculatively.

“He’s done enough, better than you did,” Erik spoke up and T’Chaka inclined his head in acknowledgement of the sharp words even as T’Challa stared at Erik in shock.

“Well I believe that is your answer, T’Challa,” N’Jobu smiled, pulling away from T’Chaka so that he could stand in front of his son. “I am glad you got to see the sunsets I’d promised you.”

Erik closed his eyes as N’Jobu pressed their foreheads together and the plane fell away beneath them.

T’Challa gasped awake and by his side Erik was staring at him with a strange look on his face.

T’Challa wasn’t sure what to make of it so instead he dug himself from his burial spot and stood waiting for Erik to follow.

The children were long gone and T’Challa spread the mats he’d brought with them on the floor, sitting on one before gesturing Erik to the other.

“Thanks for that,” Erik finally offered up and T’Challa shrugged.

“It was his right; he was the son of a king, if not by blood then in spirit. I did not tell you of my actions as I was not sure they would work but Bast was willing.”

“Bast…that’s your God, right?” Erik inquired, watching as T’Challa set out the incense he’d prepared before them along with a small jar of ritual paint.

“She is the mother of us all, Goddess of warfare, music and pleasure,” T’Challa explained, focusing on the rituals he’d been taught as he set out his instruments.

“So you’ll treat me like a God?” Erik inquired and T’Challa hoped the darkness was enough to hide his expression and the burning he could feel through his skin.

At least Okoye wasn’t here to see it.

“You’ve got no game, you know that?” Erik commented and T’Challa let the insult slide, partially because it was true but mostly because he was ready to distract Erik with something else.

Holding out the jar, he glanced at the other man, “May I?” he asked, waiting until Erik nodded before dipping his fingers in the paste and pressing them to Erik’s forehead.

“This is some Lion King foolishness,” Erik muttered but T’Challa ignored him.

“This is the way of our people, the blessings that should have been bestowed at your naming day. The first is for wisdom…it is especially needed as while you are intelligent wisdom seems to escape you,” T’Challa laughed.

“Smart enough to figure out the distance crap on your cuffs,” Erik groused.

“That is why I upgraded it,” T’Challa retorted, enjoying the scowl on Erik’s face even if it did ruin the marks on his forehead.

Dipping his fingers into the paste again, he swiped it over Erik’s right hand then his left.

“A blessing for prosperity,” he offered up.

“I’m gonna marry a king, can’t get more prosperous than that,” Erik snorted and T’Challa shook his head as he laughed.

“Must you be contrary at all times?”

Erik’s smirk was answer enough. T’Challa rolled his eyes at that as he gestured to Erik’s shirt.

The man caught on to what he was asking and unbuttoned the fabric, not moving as T’Challa pressed a mark above his heart.

“The third is for love,” he whispered.

Erik didn’t comment this time, he just hummed but T’Challa could feel his gaze on his face as he moved on, reaching for the paste again but Erik’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“This only work once?” he asked.

T’Challa shook his head, “It can be done as many times as needed,” he explained, watching as Erik took the paste from him and dipped his fingers into it before wiping it across T’Challa’s chest, in an echo of his last mark.

“For happiness ‘cause you’re an okay guy. I don’t really trust you but you’ve done everything I asked. You gave my Pops his home back but you walk around frowning all the time. You deserve a little bit of happiness.”

T’Challa stared at him for a long moment before smile, “Thank you.”

“Plus staring at my ass can only bring you so much happiness at a time,” Erik added.

T’Challa was certain that no court would convict him for upending the rest of the paste in Erik’s hair and while the filthy look that Ayo shot them both was definitely a judgement, Erik’s smile felt like a get out of jail free card.


	5. Chapter 5

T’Challa hadn’t lost Erik, he was perfectly aware that the man had to be within a certain radius…he just wasn’t certain of where in that radius his intended had scurried off to.  

He’d been slowly widening the distance the cuffs allowed over the months but the warnings system for when Erik strayed too far had never popped up and even now the system was dormant which meant that Erik was still within their parameters, which also meant that T’Challa hadn’t technically lost him.

“You’ve lost him again,” Okoye sighed, rolling her eyes when T’Challa made a face at her.

“I have not…I know where he is, technically,” he replied.

Okoye’s smile was a sharp, dangerous thing that she wielded like a weapon. “And where is that, my king?”

T’Challa glanced away, ignoring Ayo’s barely muffled snickers. He got no respect. He hadn’t lost Erik.

“He is with your sister,” Okoye finally offered up, her gaze never leaving him as he attempted to nonchalantly leave his office.

The snickers behind him said he hadn’t done a good job at nonchalance.

He did not worry for Shuri’s safety as in the comfort of her lab Shuri was the most dangerous person T’Challa knew. Also despite their ongoing quarrels T’Challa’s gut told him that Erik would never lay a hand on his sister.

If anything his worry was for Erik.

The man had been watching Shuri ever since that day in her lab, slowly circling her and every time she moved away T’Challa caught a glimpse of sorrow on Erik’s face before he wiped his expression clean.

He’d seen the way Erik reacted to the teens he constantly monitored and he guessed that the man was trying to create the same type of bond with Shuri but Erik had never threatened any of those children’s lives, had never almost destroyed the very foundation of their entire existence.

Shuri had a right to be angry and that was why T’Challa continued to hold his tongue, letting Shuri have her own opinion of his intended.

The sounds of voices pulled T’Challa from his musing and he slowed at the top of the stairs.

He couldn’t see them but he could hear the conversation as plain as day.

A tiny shard of conscience told him to keep moving and announce his presence but the larger part of his mind had him stilling as he listened.

“I’m not scared of you,” Shuri scoffed and T’Challa could almost see the disdain that probably painted her face.

“Yeah, you are but that’s on me, I sort of fucked shit up when I came here,” Erik replied, his tone soft in the way it had only been when he interacted with the children in the outreach program.

Shuri was silent for a moment but T’Challa could hear the sound of something being moved, meaning she was probably tinkering as she talked to Erik.

“My brother has a big heart, much bigger than mine. He has forgiven you because you tried to hurt him but it is harder for me,” Shuri muttered. “My Baba was a good man, he was not a perfect man but he was a good one and a good father but as much as I loved him and he loved me, I knew I was never first in his eyes. T’Challa was always better. Better at words, at numbers and not even my science could let me outshine him.”

T’Challa’s fingers curled into fist as Shuri’s words tore at him. His mother had told him often that eavesdropping meant accepting that what you heard probably wouldn’t be what you wanted to hear and now her words rang true.

“But my brother made me feel like I was the stars in the sky, he was never too busy for me, never too tired to share my accomplishments or to praise me. He was like a father and brother rolled into one and when my Baba died, it hurt but he had prepared us for that,” Shuri paused, her tone turning cold. “I was prepared for that but I wasn’t prepared for my brother to die before my eyes. You did not just kill the king of Wakanda, you ripped my soul and heart from my body and I did not even have a second to grieve. I do not fear you and I am trying to be more like my brother but there is a part of me that hates you so much that I would not shed a tear if you died and that is what scares me.”

T’Challa breathed in the silence. He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes until he forced them open.

His chest ached with pain for his little sister and all he wanted was to take her into his arms and protect her from all the horrors and betrayal that the world had shown him but he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was give her the time and space to become the great woman he could already see.

“Shit,” Erik whispered. “You don’t pull your punches, Princess.”

“I simply corrected you,” Shuri replied.

“Nah, I get it,” Erik carried on. “You’ve got a right to be mad at me and…” Erik trailed off. “Look, I don’t say this lightly but I’m sorry. I’d tell your brother but…”

“He has already forgiven you,” Shuri pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say it,” Erik replied. “I can’t go back in time and fix what I did and even if I could I wouldn’t because the changes that are happening, they’re bigger than just me wanting your forgiveness. I’ve got people depending on me, kids I needed to help even if I could’ve done things a bit differently but I’m gonna give you my word and I don’t do that shit lightly…if I hurt your brother again you can do anything you want to me.”

“You are so much alike, it’s scary,” Shuri scoffed. “Fine, I give my word to try to not hate you all the time.”

“Just most of it?” Erik teased.

“Do not think you are distracting me. Get your hands off my scanners,” Shuri rebuffed.

“Hey, I’m just fixing your mistake. What kind of scanner can’t tell me how to get this damn cuffs off?”

“The kind not meant to!” Shuri sputtered.

T’Challa straightened up and turned away, leaving the two to rebuild a relationship they’d never realized that they’d wanted.

As he left the lab Shuri’s voice rang after him.

“Did you upgrade my tech?!” she screamed, the affront clear in her tone and T’Challa shook his head.

They’d be just fine.

*O*

T’Challa watched as the council quarrelled amongst themselves. Every so often someone would glance at Erik where he was sprawled in his chair and like clockwork Erik’s gaze would lock on the person like a shark that smelled blood in the water and the eye contact would quickly be broken.

They never kept looking long enough to see the curl of Erik’s lips and T’Challa shook his head at the man’s attempts at amusing himself.

“We will not reach an agreement,” the Water Tribe Elder sighed and T’Challa straightened when the man’s attention shifted to him. “The king must decide what will be done with these traitors.”

“As he decided to deal with the one sitting at his side?” Lenana, the representative from the Border Tribe demanded.

T’Challa’s cocked a brow at that as Erik leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the man, a smile plastered across his face.

“W’Kabi will not be treated as a traitor. His actions were in accordance with the man he saw as king,” T’Challa replied. “I would think that as one of his own you would understand this better than anyone.”

“He has brought shame upon our tribe, if anyone should be punished it should be him,” Lenana spat.

“He didn’t force any of them to fight. They choose to follow his orders. To say anything else would be a backhanded attempt to diminish their responsibility for their own actions,” T’Challa responded.

“And they should be punished when you let that one sit upon a throne? Where is the justice in that? What kind of king takes the words of a simpleton who shuns our technology as gospel?”

“It sounds like you are angry with us,” Mandla chimed in, his cold gaze flickering over Lenana. “The Jabari are more than willing to show you just how simple we are, little goat herder.”

“He clearly has beef but as I’m a vegetarian I see no reason to be concerned,” M’Baku added and Mandla switched his glare from Lenana to his own brother.

M’Baku just beamed at the look and T’Challa wondered when he’d lost control of his entire council.

“My decision to take Erik as my intended was just that…my decision,” T’Challa spoke up.

“You could not beat him so instead you wish to chain him to yourself,” Lenana scoffed.

T’Challa opened his mouth to speak as Okoye shifted behind him at the insult but Erik beat both of them to it.

“Ey, put some respect in your tone. You’re talking to your king,” he called out, his voice soft but the intent in his tone didn’t escape anyone.

“I do not fear you outsider,” Lenana shot back and Erik grinned.

“That’s cool but that outsider thing is why you should be scared of me. You people are big on tradition, formal challenges, blood vows but me? I live by the motto of not letting your mouth write a check your ass can’t cash.”

Lenana’s gaze flickered to T’Challa but he made sure to keep his expression blank. “Is that a threat?”

“Nah, I’m just saying, I’ve got a long memory and a lot of free time. Take that as you will,” Erik yawned, leaning back in his chair as he hooked a leg over one of the arms.

“If it’s a formal challenge you want…” Lenana snarled rising from his seat and Erik was moving before the man had taken a step forward, body shifting from relaxed to predatory in the blink of an eye.

Lenana froze as Erik straightened to his full height. “You can show some respect or I can beat that shit into you,” Erik whispered, his voice loud in the silence.

T’Challa rubbed at his temples making to stand.

He never got the chance.

“N’Jadaka,” Ramonda shouted, striding forward and T’Challa tensed in uncertainty when Erik turned towards his mother. The two had avoided each other for months and T’Challa was unsure of what his mother intended.

Ramonda laid a hand on Erik’s forearm, staring up at him, “Do not let your anger cost you your dignity. A petty squabble with a man who has nothing to lose is beneath you,” she coaxed, tugging at him and Erik followed her back to his own seat.

Ramonda didn’t move her hand, not even when they were seated and T’Challa had to drag his eyes away from the image of Erik staring at her like he wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture.

“W’Kabi and those who followed him will serve as our ambassadors to the Jabari until such time that M’Baku believes they are fit to return,” T’Challa paused to stare at Lenana “We have all lost something and for that I offer you forgiveness for your words but any slight against this judgement will be dealt with appropriately. Despite his action W’Kabi is still one of us, you would do well to remember that.”

The words served as the dismissal they were meant to be and T’Challa stood as the Elders left the room.

He glanced back at Erik but his mother just shook her head.

“I wish to speak with N’Jadaka,” she informed him.

T’Challa considered hesitating but a sharp look from Ramonda had him following Ayo out of the room.

He stopped just out of hearing range and waited.

The minutes ticked by and the silence made his muscles tense but when Erik finally emerged from the council room he was smiling.

“Do I wish to know?” T’Challa asked, snorting when Erik just shook his head.

He wanted to ask why the man had felt the need to defend him, why he’d stood up to Lenana but the smile on Erik’s face was such a fragile thing and T’Challa didn’t want to be the one who made it dim so instead he kept quiet.

He even managed to not jerk in surprise when Erik bumped into him like it was natural for them to be so close.


	6. Chapter 6

“Why’s this wedding thing taking so long?” Erik asked and T’Challa glanced up from the mini shield he was working on.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that while Erik could be distracted by paperwork and legal documents, the man truly excelled in a lab and no matter what Shuri liked to imply he hadn’t simply commandeered a lab to please Erik. He’d had several ideas bouncing around his head since their small altercation…T’Challa wouldn’t call it a war because just the memory of the bodies left behind was enough to make him feel sick.

Erik had just been one small part behind his current lab.

Glancing at the man now, T’Challa frowned because he’d been almost certain that Erik was sufficiently distracted by the kimoyo beads he was trying to reverse engineer.

Erik snorted at the expression, “You’ve been in the zone for five hours,” he pointed out and T’Challa wondered when Erik had learned him well enough to guess what he was thinking without words.

“It almost sounds like you want to marry me,” T’Challa retorted, putting his project to the side with a swipe of his fingers that sent the image of the shield flying back into his personal archives.

“Celibacy ain’t my thing and seeing as you’re all go big or go home around here. I’m figuring that the only way I’ll be getting into your bed is when you put a ring on it,” Erik retorted and T’Challa’s fingers stuttered, almost deleting the file he’d just pulled up.

He narrowed his eyes at Erik, “Do not seek to manipulate me,” he sighed, rubbing at his temple with one hand, firmly ignoring the sick twist of his stomach when Ross’ words floated up into his mind. This was what Erik did; he infiltrated a group, learned everything about them and tore them apart from the inside.

T’Challa hadn’t realized that his loneliness had been so visible that Erik would have identified it as a weak point.

“Ain’t manipulation if you want it too,” Erik pointed out, his lips curled up into a smirk.

“You do not like men,” T’Challa pointed out, steepling his fingers together.

“I don’t like _most_ men. I’ve got a thing for intelligence and most of the people I hang around with aren’t big on smarts,” Erik explained, cocking his head as he stared at T’Challa. “I’m not saying I like you all that much, I just want to fuck.”

“And this bluntness helps?” T’Challa scoffed, determined to act like the mere mention of sex didn’t have him half hard already.

Erik stood, circling T’Challa’s desk and the king made no move to watch him even when Erik left his field of sight.

“My looks help.”

Erik’s voice was a ghost of warm air caressing T’Challa’s ear, the sensation lingering even when Erik moved again, forcing T’Challa to shift his chair back as he pulled himself up on the desk, legs spread in a way that had T’Challa’s eyes darting to his crotch before he could help himself.

“So what do you say? We gonna have a shotgun wedding without the baby or what?”

T’Challa stared at Erik for a moment, searching the man’s expression for any hint of uncertainty, or unease.

Erik just cocked a brow at him, the expression shifting into something sly when T’Challa’s fingers found the button and zip of his trousers.

“The king’s got balls,” Erik taunted, biting his lips when T’Challa tugged at his trousers.

“The king does not appreciate being taunted,” T’Challa retorted, loosening Erik’s belt like an afterthought.

The man lifted his hips just enough to allow the material to be tugged down and out of the way, his eyes glued to T’Challa’s face the entire time.

The sound that Erik made when T’Challa slid to his knees was like a boot to the gut and T’Challa found himself hard so fast it made his head spin but he wasn’t focused on that, not when Erik’s cock was curving up towards his stomach, a thick long thing that had saliva pooling in T’Challa’s mouth.

Holding Erik’s gaze, T’Challa leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the head, fighting the urge to smirk when Erik’s hips hitched forward into the motion.

“Fuck, dude, I just wanted a hand job,” Erik hissed and T’Challa smirked.

“You don’t want me on my knees?” he taunted, dipping back down to draw a long line from the base of Erik’s cock to the tip with his tongue, rolling the bitter taste in his mouth for a second before he decided that he liked it.

He hadn’t done this in years but his body remembered the motion as he closed his lips over the head of Erik’s cock, sinking down slowly.

He didn’t stop until his nose was pressed to neatly trimmed hair at Erik’s groin.

His eyes watered but he kept himself there, breathing through his nose even as his free hand found itself between his own legs pressing against the bulge there when he rocked his own hips forwards as he swallowed.

“Fuck,” Erik groaned, “Move and I might have to fucking kill you.”

T’Challa wanted to laugh but instead he pulled back, allowing a few wet inches to slide from his throat before sinking back down, eyes falling closed as he made a rhythm he could work with.

This was not about love, it was about release and T’Challa could feel the tension in Erik’s muscles as the man tried to stay still for him.

It made him hope for something more but he would take what he got.

Fingers brushing the corner of his lips had his eyes flickering open.

Erik was staring down at him with the same strange look he’d given him after their trip to the ancestral plane.

T’Challa still wasn’t sure what it meant but he didn’t let it distract him this time as he pulled up until only the head of Erik’s cock was in his mouth.

He could feel drool leaking past his lips and he knew that he was probably teary-eyed because Erik was by no means small but all he could focus on was the heavy weight on his tongue and the throbbing at his own groin.

Resettling himself with both hands on Erik’s thighs he bobbed once and then almost lost his balance when Erik’s hips shifted up to meet him, forcing his cock down T’Challa’s throat.

The moan that left him was sudden and only the member in his mouth kept it from alerting the Dora Milaje guarding the doors.

“Just like that,” Erik whispered, fingers moving from T’Challa’s lips to tangle in his hair.

He kept his thrusts slow, gentle in a way that made T’Challa’s cock throb and he whined as he slid a hand back down to touch himself while Erik leaned back, one hand bracing himself against the desk, hips rolling up in a sinuous motion that forced his cock so deep that T’Challa’s brain forget how to breathe.

He didn’t realize he was rutting madly against his own hand until his orgasm crashed into him, locking every muscle of his body.

The sound that Erik made above his head was almost a snarl but T’Challa was too dazed to really focus on that, not when Erik’s cock was pulsing down his throat, the sensation making him hum in pleasure as Erik’s other hand fell away to brace himself against the desk.

T’Challa pulled away slowly, blinking to clear his vision as he shifted back, shaky fingers finding the arms of his chair and he collapsed into it with a smug grin as he took in Erik’s shattered expression.

“I believe you said go big or go home,” he laughed, the sound cutting off when Erik darted forward and pressed their lips together, his tongue licking at T’Challa’s lips until he opened up for him and T’Challa growled into the kiss when sharp teeth tugged at his lower lip.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Erik snorted.

“We are not as naïve and backwards as you would like to think,” T’Challa pointed out, smirking when Erik’s eyes dropped to his lips.

“Not even a little bit,” Erik agreed and then that expression was back but T’Challa was too relaxed to focus on it.

The feeling fizzled out as soon as someone cleared their throat in the doorway and T’Challa winced when he met Okoye’s eyes over Erik’s shoulder.

“Well fuck me,” Erik groaned when he noticed her presence and T’Challa echoed the sentiment.

*O*

Erik avoided him for three days in a move that tickled T’Challa seeing as the man had been the one to suggest what they’d done but now he seemed unable to meet T’Challa’s eyes…and both of them were unable to meet Okoye’s eyes though that was mostly because they weren’t sure when she’d entered the lab and to be fair neither of them really wanted to know.

The strange thing was that Erik was spending time with his mother and T’Challa wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Maybe if you hadn’t slept with him in a lab you wouldn’t be so worried about what he’s telling mother,” Shuri chided and T’Challa shot her a dirty look.

“Maybe if you and Okoye stopped gossiping about my life you would find time to actually upgrade our ships as you’ve been promising to do for the last six months,” T’Challa retorted, barely ducking the shoe that came sailing towards his head.

“My ships don’t need upgrading,” Shuri pouted, though the shifty eyed look on her face said that she was lying through her teeth. T’Challa had sent her his ideas for improving the shields and he was going to get her to help him even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming down to the engineering labs.

“And give me back my shoe,” she demanded, waiting until T’Challa tossed the thing back at her before adding. “Erik and T’Challa sitting in a tree…”

“Do not think that I’m above traumatizing you with details of what we were actually doing,” T’Challa warned and Shuri’s mouth snapped shut as she shot him a filthy glare.

“You were so much nicer when you were dating Nakia,” she groused. “I think Erik’s pleasant demeanour is rubbing off on you and don’t you dare make that into an innuendo.”

T’Challa pressed one hand to his chest dramatically. “You think so poorly of me, little sister.”

“I’m your only sibling; I can think anything I want about you. Now get over here and explain this shield to me and don’t think I don’t know Erik has my kimoyo bead samples. If he tries to upgrade any more of my tech I’m going to rig them to spit goo in his face.”

“I’d much rather stay out of your quarrel,” T’Challa snorted, ignoring the whipping motion Shuri was making over his head as he draped an arm over her shoulders and tugged her close. “Have I told you lately that I’m the luckiest man on this earth because of you?”

“You have but you can say it again. My ego needs watering,” Shuri laughed as she punched him in the side playfully. “Now spit out what you actually want because you’re a horrible actor.”

T’Challa kept his expression innocent for a moment before he laughed, “I want to start courting Erik properly,” he admitted and Shuri cocked a brow.

“You slept with him…”

“I didn’t…” T’Challa bit off his words as he tugged at one of her braids. “Stop gossiping with Okoye.”

Shuri rolled her eyes, “Whatever you say, brother of mine. You’ve already given him his blessings so food?” she offered up, her expression devious. “I could be your taste-tester.”

“The last time I let you taste test, you ate everything,” T’Challa pointed out.

“Then maybe you should have made more,” Shuri shot back. “I’m a growing human being…”

“More like a human bean pole,” T’Challa muttered, grunting when Shuri elbowed him.

“And when you’re fat and old I’ll remind you of this day,” she vowed, jerking away when T’Challa’s fingers found her sides. “Get off me, I swear to Bast, T’Challa, I’ll tell mama,” she snorted, wiggling like an eel as T’Challa relented and allowed her to breathe.  “Just for that I get fifty percent of anything you prepare.”

“Thirty percent,” T’Challa shot back.

“Fifty and I won’t tell mother what you and Erik were doing in the lab,” she countered and T’Challa narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

“You drive a hard bargain…”

“If you make it fifty-five I could make sure that he just stumbles on the food without your heavy-handed approach to subtlety.”

“Deal,” T’Challa agreed as Shuri smirked. “I cannot believe you would blackmail your own brother.”

“That will teach you to never negotiate with a hungry teenager,” Shuri beamed, opening up the schematics for T’Challa’s shield. “Now tell me what this shield does that mine can’t so I can tell you how very wrong you are. It’s my favourite part of the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought ya'll were safe from my poor attempt at porn...think again.


	7. Chapter 7

T’Challa had honestly expected Erik to continue ignoring him so he was pleasantly surprised when the man wandered into his office and reclaimed his usual sofa as if nothing had ever happened. It reminded him of the palace cats, leaving and returning when they pleased with an air of “you should be grateful to even be blessed by our presence,”

Cocking a brow T’Challa watched as Erik settled into his seat.

“What?” Erik demanded with a scowl and there was a little voice screaming at T’Challa to leave it alone but he’d never been very good at taking his own advice.

“It is nothing,” he smirked, the expression morphing into a grin when Erik’s scowl darkened. “I only wanted to pass on my condolences.”

Erik’s frown shifted from anger to one of confusion at that. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I can only imagine how much you wanted to wear white on your wedding day but alas,” T’Challa bemoaned and he was glad that Erik had no projectiles on him as he was sure the man had better aim than Shuri.

“You’ve got jokes,” Erik scoffed. “I didn’t see you laughing when you were choking on my dick.”

T’Challa snorted, “Do not flatter yourself. There was no choking involved…you’re not quite that big.”

Erik’s imitation of a fish was a wondrous thing and the image stayed with T’Challa as he refocused on his actual work, ignoring the disgruntled mumbling coming from the other side of the room.

He couldn’t ignore the small parcel that was dropped in front of him, wrapped in aluminium foil or the scent of coconuts wafting up from it.

Glancing from it up at Erik, T’Challa frowned but before he could ask Erik beat him to it.

“Look, I didn’t mean to ditch you and shit…”

“Braver man than you have run from Okoye,” T’Challa cut in with a laugh and Erik huffed out a chuckle.

“Yeah, she’s kinda terrifying but I mean…” he trailed off. “I respect my partners, no matter what and the disappearing act was a coward move, so this is me trying to man up,” he explained gesturing to the small parcel.

T’Challa was slow as he unwrapped it, aware of Erik’s eyes on him the entire time.

Inside the aluminium foil was a small brown food of some sort, it was hard to the touch and T’Challa glanced from it to Erik.

“If this is an attempt to poison me just know that Shuri would become Queen and anything after that would be on your head,” he teased.

“Man, if you don’t eat it,” Erik sighed and T’Challa snickered to himself, breaking off a small portion of the thing.

His first bite had him humming at the sweetness of it but that there was also a strong taste of coconut and ginger that had T’Challa taking another much quicker bite, chewing slowly to savour it.

“They’re called coconut drops,” Erik told him and when T’Challa glanced up Erik was watching him with that odd look on his face but beneath that there was more than a hint of pride and he deserved it because the coconut drops were delicious.

T’Challa wasn’t sure who’d told Erik of his sweet tooth but he was grateful regardless.

“You can make more of these?” he asked…demanded because he was more than willing to exchange sexual favours for the divinity currently taking up residence on his tongue.

“Yeah, sure, they’re not my thing but if you like them…”

“I do,” T’Challa cut in just to make sure that there was no misunderstanding. “Also never share this with Shuri.”

“Okay?” Erik muttered, backing away from the desk, expression more than a little bemused but T’Challa didn’t care about that. “You do realize that you can’t eat that all the time?”

The look T’Challa shot his way clearly invited Erik to try him but the man had at least a little common sense because instead of rising to the occasion he just held up his hands in supplication and retreated to his sofa.

T’Challa was going to have to thank M’Baku because this alone was worth marrying Erik for.

*O*

T’Challa had never been a heavy sleeper but even if he had he doubted he’d have been able to sleep through the piercing sirens screaming from his wrists.

He rolled off the bed, all senses scanning for whatever danger was in his room but the night was silent except for the continuous pulsing which could mean only one thing.

He was running before he really thought about it and as he burst from his room Ayo was on his heels.

Skidding around the corner, he pounded on Erik’s door, keying in the sequence when Erik didn’t respond.

The second that the door clicked open T’Challa’s heart stuttered in his chest.

The shouting was what caught his attention first and he stepped closer to Erik finally catching sight of the small image flashing above the kimoyo beads that shouldn’t have even been working.

The teen on the screen was familiar but she was moving too fast for T’Challa to fully recognize her, the images around her fizzling with static but there was someone crying and it was close enough to the beads for the sound to echo through the room.

“Aneka, calm down, fucking calm down. You need to get her to stop crying or you’ll never stay ahead of him,” Erik was pleading and when Aneka glanced at the beads her face was twisted with fear.

“I can’t,” she choked out, ducking around another corner and the slam of a door behind her was loud but not as loud as something impacting the wood.

Erik flinched when T’Challa slid into his space but T’Challa wasn’t focused on that as the teen huddled in a corner, the baby she was holding now visible as the images settled.

“Aneka, listen to me,” he coaxed swallowing the bile clawing at his throat as something slammed against the door again. “Your beads, I need you to find the third from the centre and twist it in this sequence, do you understand?”

Aneka shook her head, clutching the baby tight to her chest as her gaze darting to Erik.

“Listen to him,” Erik whispered and Aneka’s jaw tightened but she nodded and that was enough for T’Challa.

“Three times to the right, one left and five to the right,” T’Challa instructed, his fingers on his own beads. If she inputted the code correctly he could take control of the kimoyo beads and override the security protocols.

Later he could ask who she’d gotten them from but for now he was grateful she even had them.

“Do it now,” he ordered, watching his own beads as they lit up with each correct sequence.

Blue light pillowed upwards, hitting the ceiling of the room the teen was huddled in before slamming against the floor as it crackled with electricity, turning the outside world black as it cut out all sight and sound on T’Challa’s orders. Whoever Aneka was running from didn’t get to scare her not for a second more if he had anything to say about it.

“That field will hold for four hours. Nothing short of a nuclear blast can damage it,” he whispered and the words seemed to loosen something in the teen because she sobbed, pressing the child to her face and T’Challa’s eyes stung in response even as he turned to Ayo only to find Okoye by her side.

Okoye’s expression was cold and hard, “I will alert our closest operative,” she bit out and T’Challa nodded, his attention turning back to Erik and Aneka.

“He was going to take her away. I told him…I asked one of the ladies at the centre like you said I should and she got the social workers to agree to a visit but you know he’s got friends there and he was going to leave. I just wanted to talk to him and he fucking…” she gritted her teeth and Erik reached out almost instinctively before curling his fingers into a fist when they hit the image instead of the girl he was reaching out to. “She’s a baby and babies cry, right? I know I’m mouthy and shit but who fucking hits a baby in the face because she’s crying?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Erik snarled, his fury a living breathing thing and Aneka made a soft sound in response to it.

“I told him that, scared his bitch-ass enough for me to get a head start,” she grumbled, the tears drying up in place of her fury.

T’Challa had no words to give either of them but he curled his fingers around Erik’s wrist and when the man stared at him T’Challa could see the gratitude in his eyes.

“Nakia will be there in seven minutes,” Okoye called from behind them, catching Aneka’s attention. She smiled as she stepped close enough for the teen to see her properly. “You will like Nakia, she enjoys inflicting pain on those who would hurt the people they should protect.”

“Translation she’s gonna kick his ass,” Aneka nodded. “I like her already.”

Erik snorted at that, “You’re a tough kid, you know that?”

“You raised me, couldn’t be anything else could I?” Aneka huffed, glancing down at the baby who was now reaching for the dancing images as her tears slowed.

*O*

T’Challa wasn’t sure how long they sat there but when he finally instructed the field to collapse on Okoye’s say-so both girls were asleep on the floor and the sun was rising, painting Erik’s room in shades of red and gold.

Nakia was gentle as she woke Aneka and the teen waited until Erik nodded before she accepted Nakia’s hand.

“Look, I should probably say sorry for stealing this but it saved my ass so I’m not really sorry,” Aneka muttered as she stood up, careful to not jostle the sleeping baby.

“Say you’re sorry,” Erik sighed and Aneka rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, I’m sorry but I’m also not sorry, you feel me?” she told Nakia as they led her from the room, barely getting in a goodbye before the transmission ended.

The air around them felt heavy as T’Challa caught his breath for the first time that night. Even with knowing the capabilities of Shuri’s tech the fact remained that he’d been too far away to help Aneka and it had made him feel like less of a man.

He didn’t even want to know what was going through Erik’s head. The thought made him glance at Erik but the man was still staring at the now dead beads on his bed.

“Her dad’s a fucking bastard,” Erik muttered in the silence. “He got her mom hooked on heroin and when Aneka came along I tried everything to get her clean…it wouldn’t stick.”

“How did you meet them?” T’Challa asked, shifting to face Erik and the sad smile on Erik’s face made his chest hurt.

“Aneka’s mom was the oldest kid at our foster home. She basically raised us,” he explained. “I promised her I’d look after her kids. It was one of the first things I was gonna do…go back and get them.”

T’Challa was silent at that and when Erik’s weight bumped into his shoulder and stayed there, he didn’t move except to turn his head to look down at the other man.

“Thank you,” Erik whispered.

“No thanks are needed. She is your family so she is mine and family always helps each other,” T’Challa responded, pretending to not feel the damp spot soaking through his night shirt.

He would not ask Erik what had happened to Aneka’s mother…for both their sakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry like what even is this story?


	8. Chapter 8

The sweltering heat of another body pressed to close to his own dragged T’Challa from his sleep and he fought against the sensation, rolling away from the furnace he was pressed against but the thing seemed to follow him, forcing him to open his eyes.

Erik was pressed against T’Challa’s chest, one arm curled around the pillow they were both apparently sharing and in the process all but smothering T’Challa in his sleep.

Another attempt to escape his octopus of a fiancé only got him some disgruntled mumbling as Erik’s grip tightened and T’Challa was certain that any other move would wake Erik so he held himself still and just breathed.

In the space of a few months, Erik had gone from enemy, to shackle, to someone he wanted to protect and T’Challa didn’t know what to do with the feeling swelling in his chest when he stared down at the other man.

“You gonna keep thinking out loud or shut up and go back to sleep?”

Erik’s voice was husky with sleep and when T’Challa blinked down at him, Erik’s eyes were still closed.

“So disrespectful,” T’Challa tsked, not offering any resistance when Erik tugged him down until they were both sharing the same pillow once more.

“Nothing disrespectful about wanting to sleep,” Erik responded, finally cracking one eye open as if to ensure that T’Challa wasn’t going to make break for it. “I don’t know about you but I’m tired.”

“I need to be up in an hour,” T’Challa responded, wiggling to escape Erik’s tightening grip.

“Nah, what you need is to relax. I’d offer to suck you off but sleep head ain’t exactly the best,” Erik retorted and the words had T’Challa rolling his eyes skyward because he wasn’t sure what he’d ever done to deserve the foul-mouthed creature.

“I’d thank you to keep your teeth away from…” he paused when Erik perked up. “What?”

“I’m just waiting to hear you say ‘cock’,” Erik grinned.

“And that’s what wakes you up properly?” T’Challa frowned.

“I’m not awake, I’m just less asleep and you’ve never even said ‘damn’ in front of me. It’ll be like hearing the Queen swear or some shit like that,” Erik explained, gesturing with a hand. “So go on…say it.”

“You think I don’t swear?” T’Challa laughed, ignoring Erik’s imperious demands.

“Do you?”

“Of course, I swear, I’m still just a man, N’Jadaka,” T’Challa huffed, settling back onto the pillow, his eyes closing temporarily.

He blinked them open when warm fingers brushed over his eyelids and when he stared at Erik the other man was watching him, expression intent.

“Don’t think you’ve ever been _just_ anything,” Erik whispered and T’Challa frowned as he let his eyes close again.

“I do not think we know enough about each other to say who is just anything,” he offered up and though Erik didn’t respond he could feel the man shifting around until his breath ghosted across T’Challa’s skin.

The urge to open his eyes was there but T’Challa fought against it because some things were easier to be said in the dark.

“Not like you can use anything I say against me,” Erik snorted, the sound bitter and T’Challa started when Erik’s fingers curled around his wrist where it was pressed between their bodies.

Opening his eyes he found Erik watching him.

“If that is the truth then teach me,” he prompted.

“Teach you what?” Erik frowned.

“You,” T’Challa responded simply and Erik’s eyes widened just a fraction before he smothered the reaction with a cold smile.

“I think you know me enough, don’t you?”

“I know your statistics but numbers do not make a man and you are more than numbers. You are family,” T’Challa responded, eying Erik when the man’s brows furrowed. “Tell me of your family, the one that you chose.”

Erik was silent for so long that T’Challa wondered if he’d pushed too hard, too fast.

“I didn’t choose them, they just sort of happened.” Erik huffed, closing his eyes and T’Challa followed suit, letting the darkness magnify Erik’s voice until it was all he could focus on. “First time they put me in a home, Sneaks was there,” Erik laughed, “Her name was actually Deidre but we all called her Sneaks because she never took her freaking sneakers off not even in bed…she always thought someone would steal them. Aneka reminds me of her when she was a kid. She was tiny but she didn’t take shit from anyone and ‘cause she was the oldest one, she sort of took care of all of us.”

“You love her,” T’Challa noted and the pillow jerked beneath his head so he guessed that Erik had probably nodded.

“She didn’t give you any other choice. She went hard for all of us, she always had our backs and I guess it just made sense to have hers,” Erik explained and this time T’Challa was the one who nodded, exhaling in the silence that Erik left behind.

“I hated my Baba when he sent me away. We clashed on so many things, he never thought I knew enough or though things over enough and when he told me that I had to leave my home and Shuri behind it felt like he was punishing me for being myself,” T’Challa whispered and Erik’s fingers tightened around his wrist. “It is foolish but when he was hurt, when I wasn’t fast enough all I could think was that maybe I had done it intentionally, maybe my hatred was not in the past as I’d thought…”

“Survivor’s guilt is fucked up,” Erik muttered but T’Challa shook his head, his throat locking around an admission he never wanted to voice. “Don’t pull that shit,” Erik hissed and T’Challa’s eyes snapped open only to find Erik glowering at him. “You wanna act like you’re Superman and apparently you should’ve been able to stop time and save him then that’s cool but even when I couldn’t stand you I watched that tape and saw someone who tried his hardest to protect his king and yeah you failed because you’re human and I know hanging around with aliens and so called ‘Gods’ might make you think otherwise but you’re human. You can’t do everything, no matter how hard you try.”

The noise that left T’Challa sounded like someone was standing on his chest. “How are you so crude and yet so wise?”

“Must have been that blessings shit you did,” Erik shot back without missing a beat and T’Challa had to smile, the expression sticking even when Erik rolled his eyes at him.

“I can see now why Aneka is the way she is…nothing shakes you, does it?”

“You learn to grow a thick skin when you grew up like we did. The least I could do was teach her that much especially when her mom was the one who taught me that,” Erik shrugged, his gaze flickering to something T’Challa couldn’t see.

“Nakia will make sure that they’re safe,” T’Challa offered up and when Erik’s gaze flickered back to him, he held the man’s gaze steadily. “No one will hurt the children under our protection; our War Dogs would die before they allow it.”

Erik didn’t say anything to that, he just closed his eyes and by the time sleep reached up to pull T’Challa into her warm embrace he already had a plan forming in his head. One that he’d need help to implement.

*O*

“What do you know of American Law?” T’Challa demanded as he strolled into Shuri’s lab.

“Good morning to you too, brother. How are you? I’m good thank you ever so much for asking after all it isn’t as if you never arrived at breakfast. Of course such a thing would never happen as I’m the one who always collects you for breakfast and you would not dream of being anywhere other than your room, meditating as soon as the sun rose,” Shuri hissed and T’Challa froze on the stairs under her glower.

“I apologize?” he started, not sure if he should take a step back up the stairs.

“You know I’ll hobble you if you run,” Shuri added sweetly and the hair on the back of T’Challa’s neck rose. “Where exactly did you sleep last night, big brother?”

“Shuri,” T’Challa sighed, finishing his descent. “Must you always gossip about my life?”

“It’s the only thing I can gossip about,” she muttered and T’Challa pretended he didn’t hear the whispered addition.

“American Law,” T’Challa reminded and Shuri straightened.

“I know that if you hire lawyers the American government will do everything they can to block you until you agree to at least some of their demands,” Shuri frowned.

T’Challa waved that off, “I won’t be hiring the lawyers,” he explained, “I do still have American friends who are not fugitives.”

Shuri turned slowly in her chair, “Tony could do it but he would need help on the subterfuge side of things,” she paused, examining her nails. “Of, course I’m more than willing and able to travel there to advise him.”

“I know what you are trying to do and no, I’m not letting you and Tony Stark plan a dramatic spy scenario or secretly build an underground lab. I was going to request Colonel Rhodes’ help,” T’Challa informed her and Shuri deflated like a popped balloon.

“You never let me have any fun,” she huffed before her expression shifted into something serious. “The beads started recording everything around them the second that Nakia reported them as stolen. Retrieving the footage of what happened should be easy if she had them on when he hurt the baby.”

T’Challa wanted to ask who’d told her the full story but he was too busy clamping down the resurgence of anger to focus on that.

“Which proves he’s an unfit parent but if we single out one child to bring here there will be issues…if that was what you were planning?”

T’Challa pulled out a stool and lowered himself onto it. “I thought about it and I don’t think it should be those two alone. Erik said that a lot of these children have no one but there are so many families in Wakanda that are childless and not by choice,” he pointed out and Shuri nodded.

“That could work,” Shuri grinned. “If we make an outreach program here and allow people to sign up, we can give so many of those children a second chance at a family. What does Erik think?”

“He doesn’t know what I’m doing,” T’Challa frowned, tangling his fingers together. “If something goes wrong it would shatter him.”

Shuri was silent for a long moment and when T’Challa glanced at her she was watching him with something like pity written across her face.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispered.

T’Challa’s lips curled up into a small smile, “I don’t,” he admitted, “But it feels like the right thing to do.”

Shuri’s silence spoke volumes but T’Challa didn’t want to hear a single word of it.

*O*

T’Challa wasn’t surprised to find Okoye in his office but the look on her face had him wondering if he should have approached the situation with more caution.

He saluted her before gesturing for her to sit.

“Shuri has told me of your plans and it is a good idea…”  

“But?” T’Challa prompted.

Sighing Okoye rubbed her eyelids. “Do you remember when you first met Nakia?” she asked and T’Challa nodded. “You looked at her the very same way you look at him…” T’Challa opened his mouth to refute that but she just shook her head. “You love with your whole heart and that is not always a bad thing but when Nakia left you fell apart.”

“I do not love him,” T’Challa retorted, jerking back from the accusation, like it was physical gesture.

“Not yet but this…this plan of yours, you may not see it but it is as good as a declaration of intent and he is not foolish,” Okoye pointed out.

“He deserves to be happy but this is not just for him,” T’Challa frowned.

“And what if he never makes you happy? What happens then?” Okoye demanded. “What happens if he simply uses this marriage as a way to achieve the things he could not before?”

“I…” T’Challa frowned at her question. “It would be his right.”

“Don’t,” Okoye snapped. “Do not put on a brave face, not for me. I know you as you know me and I know it would kill you but yet here you sit telling me that you would let him…”

“It would be his right,” T’Challa repeated, not sure who he was trying to convince. “He is his own man, Okoye. If this is not what he chooses then I can only do my best to make him happy in the cage I have built for him.”

“May I speak freely?” she asked and at T’Challa’s indication she straightened in her chair.

“The cage holds two and you should be happy too,” Okoye whispered, her lips curving into a small smile. “You are such a good man that sometimes I fear for you,” she whispered and before T’Challa could say anything else she was out of her chair.

“Next time you wanna call me a gold-digger you might want to do it where I can’t hear you,” Erik’s voice was soft but the look on his face was anything but, when T’Challa glanced up to see him leaning against the open door, arms crossed as he glared at Okoye.

It said a lot about how distracted he was that he’d been unable to hear Erik approaching.

Okoye merely shot him a look, “You say that in a way that suggests I did not know you were there,” she snorted. “Now, talk to your intended before I have to hurt both of you. He may be blind but I have seen the way you look at him too.”

She was out the door before Erik could respond.

“I apologize for that,” T’Challa offered up but Erik just frowned at him.

“I gave you a blessing for happiness and you really think I don’t care if you’re happy?” he inquired, stepping into the room.

“You are not required to care,” T’Challa sighed, ignoring the look of bemusement on Erik’s face because he’d had enough of people thinking they knew more than he did. “Did you want something?”

Erik shrugged, dropping a now familiar aluminium foil package on T’Challa’s desk. “Figured I’d make you something that wasn’t coconut drops,” he informed him as he took a seat.

T’Challa slowly unwrapped the package, nostrils flaring as the scent of bananas permeated his office.

There was a slice of what looked like a bread of some sort in the wrap, it was soft to the touch and when T’Challa took a bite he almost moaned at the taste of it.

“It’s banana bread, Aneka talked me through it and she said to tell you ‘Hi’,” Erik offered up.

T’Challa swallowed and swiped subconsciously at his mouth, “My thanks for the gift and the greeting.”

“It’s cool,” Erik smirked “And just so you know, I don’t need a requirement to care.”

T’Challa didn’t say anything to that because acknowledging it would mean thanking Okoye for meddling and he wasn’t about to do that…even if she was perhaps right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody needs to tell T'Challa to chill. Erik's attempts at being romantic are questionable at best.


	9. Chapter 9

“You’re doing a good thing, you know?”

The words made T’Challa smile and it was an honest one because he truly liked Colonel Rhodes. The man was respectful without being sycophantic but he also wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with T’Challa over issues in the program that neither he nor the lawyers had noticed. Like the fact that just because some of the children didn’t have blood relatives didn’t mean they didn’t have families they wouldn’t want to leave behind.

“The idea was not mine alone,” T’Challa reminded him but Rhodes just snorted.

“Still didn’t mean you had to do it,” he pointed out, the image flickering when he moved before resettling. “Just the fact that you’re giving them a chance is going to mean a lot to these kids.”

T’Challa didn’t know what to say to that, not with the guilt of all he hadn’t done still weighing heavy on his soul.

Thankfully he didn’t have to say anything when Tony barged into Rhodes’ office.

“Honey bear, do you remember how you always say don’t do anything you wouldn’t do and I never listen…”

Tony’s voice trailed off when he caught sight of T’Challa’s projection and he beamed.

“My favourite cat ninja,” he greeted, changing track as he waved and T’Challa noted the emerald necklace he was wearing, possibly to cover the bite marks just visible above the collar of his shirt. “How’s tricks? Planning on visiting us anytime soon?”

T’Challa wrinkled his nose, “No and neither is Shuri,” he deadpanned, chuckling when Tony’s expression dropped. “What is it with scientists and the need for secret labs?”

“They just want to be cool and since I’ve said that this one can’t have any minions, a secret lab is the next best thing,” Rhodes explained with a tone that said this was an ongoing argument that he probably didn’t think he’d win.

“Your jealousy is noted and an appropriate response will follow soon but I didn’t come in here for that,” Tony snarked, “I just dropped by to say that I most definitely had nothing to do with the robots currently rampaging through the base and if one of them looks like Dum-E, it’s just a coincidence.”

Rhodes pressed his fingers to his temples as Tony grinned obviously proud of himself.

“Can we take a rain-check?” he asked T’Challa, who was fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Of course, we have little to do now but wait,” he conceded. “Tony, as always it was a pleasure.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Tony called back and the transmission ended.

Rubbing at his eyes, T’Challa glanced at his clock, blinking slowly when he realized it was three in the morning. The time difference between Wakanda and the United States was hard to track when T’Challa had barely been sleeping in the first place.

Creating the outreach program took up most of T’Challa’s time and he’d let himself drown in the legal loopholes, putting Erik and his own feelings out of the way as he focused on the children he could help.

Thankfully Colonel Rhodes had backed him wholeheartedly and with the man representing him things were moving quickly.

The military wanted to create as many links with Wakanda as they could and they’d snapped up Colonel Rhodes’ “idea”…especially when the man had pointed out that being Tony’s best friend gave him a bit of a leeway with the current king.

It was almost funny how easy it was to manipulate the people who were supposed to be beyond his touch but T’Challa didn’t have time to gloat.

All it needed was one misstep and all that he was building could come crashing down around his ears.

He felt shaky in the way that he’d felt while listening to Aneka cry somewhere so far away that not even his technology could get him to her in time.

There were hundreds of children like her and the more he dug, the sicker he felt.

Erik had been right, they’d been living comfortably while atrocities thrived just outside their front door but T’Challa wasn’t stupid, he couldn’t fix everything, what he could do was make a start.

Blinking at the empty screen, T’Challa rubbed his eyes, trying to ward off the tiredness that seemed determined to pull him under.

“This is where you’ve been hiding.”

Ramonda’s voice had T’Challa’s lips curling up into a small, almost automatic smile as she entered his office fully, her eyes scanning his face.

“It is not hiding when I am where I’m supposed to be,” T’Challa pointed out, standing to accept the hug she drew him into.

The breath seemed to shudder from his body as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head before pulling back so that she could look up at him, her hands cradling his face.

“You are supposed to be in bed…where you were supposed to be the night before as well,” she admonished gently. “You are worrying Shuri,” she added and T’Challa flinched because he couldn’t remember speaking to Shuri in days…not since she’d helped him with his plans. “You are also worrying N’Jadaka though he will claim otherwise.”

T’Challa snorted, “I doubt my absence has caused him much worry.”

“Your absence has caused much more than you know but you are a man and I will allow you so sort your own affairs,” she smirked, tugging at him. “Now go, get some rest. I will personally oversee this…” she offered and T’Challa opened his mouth to protest only to pause when she narrowed her eyes. “Unless you believe you know more than I do about law.”

T’Challa’s mouth snapped shut just as quickly as it had opened because everyone knew where both he and Shuri had gotten their intelligence from and it had not all been their Baba.

“Colonel Rhodes…”

“Will be meeting with the lawyers and will tell me what the outcome is in a few hours. Nakia is collecting the names of the children who are willing to take part in the program and Okoye is screening the families who wish to accept them,” she interrupted and T’Challa frowned down at her.

“I wish all of you would stop talking about me when I’m not there to defend myself,” he muttered sullenly, allowing her to all but shove him out of his own office.

“You poor thing,” she murmured in pseudo sympathy and when T’Challa turned to bargain about some more time, the door shut in his face.

Blinking at the thing he sighed as he caught Ayo’s gaze.

“You would not believe I was the king,” he huffed.

“You are her child first,” Ayo pointed out and T’Challa conceded the point as he trudged down the corridor towards his room.

*O*

T’Challa blinked once, then again but the sight in front of him didn’t change. Erik was still leaning against his door, a pillow and blanket wrapped under one arm and T’Challa frowned at him, only to get a scowl in response.

“You wanna act like a kid and not sleep then I’m gonna sit here all night and make sure you don’t leave your room,” Erik offered up and T’Challa rolled his eyes so hard it hurt even as he keyed in the door sequence.  He wanted to believe that his mother hadn’t planned this but he wasn’t so gullible.

“Somewhere there is someone who knows that I am a king and respects that,” he muttered as he stumbled towards his bed, ignoring Erik when the man froze in the doorway.

Stripping down to his undergarments he climbed onto the bed, glancing back at his intended.

“I will not be able to sleep with you glowering at me,” he pointed out.

That seemed to break Erik out of his trance and T’Challa watched with half-closed eyes as Erik sauntered closer, dropping his pillow on the bed.

“Which side do you want?” he inquired.

“All the sides of all beds are mine,” T’Challa groused sleepily.

“You’re a real smart mouth when you’re tired, huh?” Erik laughed and the bed dipped beneath his weight before resettling.

“If you try to kill me in my sleep I will return and haunt you,” T’Challa warned, grunting when Erik tugged at him until he was resettled on the pillow he’d apparently almost rolled off of.

“I’ll make sure that you’re awake before I try,” Erik snorted and T’Challa patted him in agreement… or at least he tried to, before his hand actually made contact he was asleep.

*O*

T’Challa woke to muffled words and he fought back the urge to groan. Maybe his mother was right about his need for sleep because now that his body had gotten a little of it, it wanted much more, as if it had just discovered that rest was a thing it could have.

All he wanted to do was curl up under the sheets and never come out but he had duties and people who were depending on him.

There was also the case of the whispers and T’Challa cracked an eye open just enough to make out the image of Shuri standing in his doorway with both hands on her hips and her expression twisted into the one that only showed itself before a spectacular blowout.

“Look, he ain’t dead, if he was I wouldn’t be in bed with him and if you’re really that worried about your brother’s virtue then maybe you shouldn’t be barging into his room at all hours of the morning,” Erik groused, the low rumble of his voice echoing through T’Challa’s body and it was only then that he realized just how close they were pressed together.

“I don’t care about anyone’s virtue and stop talking about my brother and sex…”

“You’re the one who said it,” Erik pointed out, oh so helpfully.

“…what I was saying was that mama says that he can sleep in and if he even thinks of coming to the office she’ll skin him,” Shuri stressed, completely ignoring Erik’s words as she stomped closer to bed and T’Challa just let his eyes close again because he knew where this was going even if Erik didn’t.

The bed dipping under him said he was right.

“That’s why I’m here because if he gets to sleep in so do I,” she finished.

“And you can’t do that in your own bed?” Erik demanded, muscles tense where he was pressed against T’Challa’s back.

“No, it’s tradition. If we get to sleep in we do it together,” Shuri shot back. “But if it makes you uncomfortable you can always leave.”

“Got more right to this bed than you do, Princess,” Erik snarked and T’Challa couldn’t help his snort of amusement.

The silence that followed the sound was damning but T’Challa refused to open his eyes.

“If you two are finished may I please go back to sleep?” he muttered into his pillow.

“Tell that to your brute of an intended,” Shuri hissed, tucking herself so close that T’Challa could smell the coconut oil in her hair.

He wondered vaguely if she’d be offended if he sniffed her.

The urge vanished when she accidentally elbowed him in the side as she settled down.

“It’s too early in the morning for your mouth,” Erik retorted and T’Challa wrapped an arm around Shuri when she tensed like she was about to scrabble across him to get to Erik.

“Sleep,” he reminded them both and Shuri huffed out a breath.

“Sleep now, I’ll get my revenge later,” she grumbled and T’Challa would have rolled his eyes at the muttering coming from Erik’s side of the bed but he was too tired to do even that.

*O*

The next time T’Challa woke it was to Shuri sprawled across his chest and Erik hanging half off the side of the bed with Shuri’s feet braced against his ribs.

Extracting himself from the tangle of limbs T’Challa snickered when Shuri kicked out and Erik vanished over the side of the bed with a dull thump.

When no sound followed that T’Challa crawled across the bed only to find Erik sprawled on his back on the floor, eyes wide open.

“How’s she so small and so big at the same time?” Erik demanded and T’Challa had to laugh as Erik glowered at him.

“She’s been that way ever since she was born,” he confided, holding out a hand to help Erik up.

The man blinked at him before clasping the hand but Erik didn’t try to pull himself up instead he just stared at T’Challa, his gaze much sharper than it had been a few seconds before.

“You look less like a zombie,” he finally offered up and T’Challa snorted, tugging Erik upwards until he was sitting up.

“Thank you for the compliment,” T’Challa laughed, stepping off the bed and stretching as he went.

Sensing his approach the windows lost their tint allowing the sun to stream into his room and if he wasn’t mistaken they were on the other side of noon.

“Are you gonna put some clothes on?” Erik demanded and T’Challa frowned down at himself but he was still dressed in his boxers, which was a far cry from the way he slept most nights.

“Am I offending you?” he asked, turning away from the window only to find Erik mere inches from his face.

“Nah, but we’re both gonna be offending your little sister in a minute if you don’t get dressed,” Erik retorted and T’Challa’s lips curled up into a smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased, taking a step closer.

“It better not be,” Shuri muttered from the bed and T’Challa snorted when Erik all but collapsed forward, his head pressed against T’Challa’s shoulder.

“Why’s she such a block?” he grumbled softly but apparently not softly enough if the look Shuri was shooting at his back was to be believed.

“I’ve said this before but let me say it again…get off of my brother before I shoot you,” she warned and T’Challa sighed as Erik rounded on her.

“How about you get your skinny ass off that bed and make me?”

Sighing T’Challa stepped around the arguing pair. His closet opened up and he selected his clothes for the day, ignoring the squabbling going on behind him, easily sidestepping a pillow Shuri aimed at Erik’s head on his way to his en-suite.

He wanted to be surprised that they were still arguing when he stepped out of the bathroom, full dressed but truthfully he wasn’t.

“Shuri, I would appreciate your help with my project if you are free,” he called out, interrupting them and Shuri frowned at him.

“What project?”

T’Challa stared at her until the confusion melted from her expression and she scrambled from the bed.

“Yes, that project, the project that we need to do…now,” she muttered, all but dragging T’Challa from the room.

“I will see you later?” T’Challa called back and Erik offered him a wave as Shuri yanked him out into the corridor.

“I deserve at least sixty percent for putting up with his mouth,” Shuri grumbled, mostly to herself but T’Challa rolled his eyes anyway.

He’d already planned to make two separate dishes so that Shuri would leave Erik’s alone but he had no intentions of telling her that…at least not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa freaking chill, Erik's heart can't take this foolishness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away got some family issues and RL to work through. Will try to upate at least once a week from now on until this is done.

T’Challa hadn’t quite stuck to his plan to make two dishes but he could still work with what he had.

“I’m dying,” Shuri groaned from where she was slumped against the counter, a spoon still clutched tight in her hand despite her words.

“Die after you taste this,” T’Challa muttered, holding out another spoon to her and Shuri turned just enough to glower at the thing, her expression one of resignation.

“Is that jollof rice?” she whispered, heaving a great sigh at T’Challa’s nod. She didn’t make any attempt to move, just opening her mouth and T’Challa fought to keep his expression blank as he fed her.

She paused, savouring her mouthful before twisting her head away, her braids obscuring T’Challa’s view of her face.

“It’s perfect and I’m going to die,” she offered up.

“If you would do it a bit quieter, I’d be grateful,” T’Challa shot back, eyeing the spread he’d created.

He didn’t like cooking per se but he was good at it. He’d tried to explain it to his baba once when the man had joined him in the kitchen. Cooking and baking were easy to understand, there were specific mixtures of food and time that would produce a perfect meal and T’Challa enjoyed the structure of it all.

He wasn’t like Shuri, who could eyeball her way through it all but what he did have was patience…perhaps too much of it because the table held four meals more than the two he’d intended to create and now he had no clue which to present to Erik.

As if she’d sensed his train of thought, Shuri flapped her hand in his direction, pointing a warning finger at him when he fully turned towards her.

“If you give him any nyama I will end you,” she hissed, the threat made much less effective by the fact that she could barely move.

“I thought you were dying?” T’Challa scoffed, shifting the meal to one side because Shuri deserved a reward though he wasn’t sure if she’d be able to eat it after everything else she’d already consumed.

“I’m not dead enough to give away food,” Shuri replied, pushing herself upright and finally letting go of the spoon.

She cast a gimlet eye over the spread of food and the look she shot T’Challa had him bristling despite her silence.

“It is just food,” he muttered, ignoring the snort that came from where Ayo was still hiding from him, though she’d never admit it. She’d escaped after T’Challa had made Shuri eat an entire plate of efo with the excuse of guarding the door.

T’Challa wasn’t sure who she was supposedly guarding it against but he knew better than to try and out negotiate Ayo.

“It’s a lot of food,” Shuri countered and T’Challa shrugged, the move obviously not enough for his sister because Shuri pursed her lips. “If he does not appreciate this I’m kicking him in the testicles.”

T’Challa choked on a laugh, the image running up against the phantom sensation that he shouldn’t have been able to remember given that the last time Shuri had tried that particular tactic on him she’d been five.

“Please don’t,” he laughed, watching Shuri roll her eyes. “Mama would not be pleased.”

Shuri scoffed, “She doesn’t have to know and stop trying to make me forget that you haven’t chosen which of these you’ll be giving him.”

“I would never,” T’Challa grinned.

“Good,” Shuri nodded. “Just give him a little of each…emphasis on little…a spoonful of each should do.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thankful for your graciousness,” T’Challa snickered, pretending to ignore the look Shuri shot him but she did have a point so T’Challa started dishing out a little of each meal under Shuri’s watchful eyes.

He could all but taste her frustration when he heaped what she deemed as too much of a dish into the containers.

He was barely done when she started gathering up her so called rewards and T’Challa decided that discretion was the better part of valour so he left her to it as he sealed Erik’s portions away.

*O*

It was only quick reflexes that kept T’Challa from running right into Erik where he was sat in front of the kitchen door.

“Your important project was in the kitchen?” Erik demanded as he stood. His tone was abrasive but the fact that he had to stretch probably meant that he’d been sitting there for a while so T’Challa ignored Erik’s attempt to needle him into an argument. He’d learned a while ago that Erik disliked being wrong footed and being combative was just another way that he could pretend that he was above embarrassment.

“Were you waiting long?” he countered, watching the way that Erik’s shoulders twitched, aborting the shrug they had been pulling up into at the last second.

“Ain’t like I’ve got anything else to do,” Erik groused, matching T’Challa’s steps as he headed to his rooms. He wasn’t stupid enough to test his mama so he gave his office a wide berth.

Ayo snorted at the move but T’Challa didn’t react to that because Ramonda was Queen Mother for a reason and that had very little to do with her marriage to his Baba. The title was one bestowed as an honour and it had to be earned.

He’d watched his mama break greater men and he wasn’t about to lay his pride at her altar just yet.

“I thought you would be talking with the children.” T’Challa frowned, glancing at Erik.

The question made the man bristle and T’Challa paused. “Is something wrong?”

Erik’s jaw worked like he was grinding his teeth but when he met T’Challa’s eyes he huffed out a breath. “They’ve got some court case so I couldn’t talk to Aneka and the rest of them are going to support her,” he admitted and T’Challa had to bite his tongue because he hadn’t considered that the lawyers would drag the children into his plans but he should have.

“You miss them,” T’Challa guessed as he started walking again and Erik shrugged.

“I’m the only one they had but Aneka said your girl Nakia’s going with them so it’s cool,” Erik explained and it was on the tip of his tongue to point out that Nakia was his best friend and not his girl but he bit the words back because Erik didn’t seem to mean anything by it.

“Went down to the labs but shit ain’t fun if I can’t bother the little princess and plus the people down there are still scared of me so I didn’t get any work done plus I left most of my stuff down in the lab you were using and these…” he held out the cuffs, “…won’t let me go down there,” he muttered.

T’Challa fought against the urge to laugh at the petulance in Erik’s voice but he knew better than to poke the beast especially considering that Erik was being almost pleasant.

“Well it’s a good thing that that was where I was heading,” T’Challa offered up, squinting when Erik snorted at him.

“Is that so?” he taunted, obviously referring to the fact that they’d passed the entrance to the lab elevators a few seconds ago.

“It is so,” T’Challa shot back. “I would rather get changed first as my clothes still smells like food.”

Erik was silent for a few minutes and it wasn’t until T’Challa was keying in the code to his rooms that the other man spoke up.

“Smells fine to me,” he whispered and T’Challa was almost certain that Erik hadn’t meant for him to hear that.

The thought had him grinning even as he stripped off, if Erik thought the food smelt good then he could only imagine what his reaction would be after Shuri was done setting out the meals for them.

*O*

“Guns are a hindrance,” T’Challa sighed, rubbing at his temples as Erik widened the schematics he’d obtained on the holographic screen.

“I’m not saying they aren’t,” Erik shot back, “Like I would’ve a few months ago but I’ve seen the things that you guys have here. Still doesn’t mean you can’t learn from some of this. Imagine if someone gets their hands on some of that missing vibranium and decides to upgrade this shit with it. How do you protect the people outside of Wakanda who don’t have access to all the resources you have here? I mean even Shuri’s projectiles took down one of your ships and I saw those up close, they’re not even half the potential of what she could make or what someone else could produce if they ripped off her tech.”

“So what are you suggesting?” T’Challa inquired, curious now that he knew that Erik wasn’t angling at mass production of weapons.

“Better shields, the clothes and shit are cool but that bracelet that you gave Aneka that was…” he trailed off. “Something like that could save lives on a scale you couldn’t imagine. Do you know how many kids get killed in drive-bys every day? Just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you could make more of these and key them into each person…”

“The children?” T’Challa guessed and at Erik’s nod something in his chest bloomed like a flower reaching for the sunlight. “It would have to be keyed to their DNA if we wanted to be safe and that’s not something that either Shuri or I specialize in and I would not feel comfortable passing this off to any scientist,” T’Challa offered up innocently…it was baiting and he knew it because he’d read everything about Erik and genetics had been one of the things that he’d excelled at, closely followed by engineering.

 Erik was right, there was little for him to do until the council decided on how much access he would be given to Wakanda’s politics and development but this project along with the outreach program should keep him busy.

“You think you’re slick but it’s cool cause I wanted this one for myself anyway,” Erik scoffed. “All I need is for you to make those shields you’ve been working on.”

T’Challa’s brow hiked at that and Erik snorted, rolling his chair around to T’Challa’s side of the desk before dragging up the schematics he’d been working on, overlaying T’Challa’s work over the weapons he’d been showing him.

“Don’t know if you know this but you sort of talk while you work and this shit makes that shield that Aneka had look like child’s play,” Erik mumbled and T’Challa’s ego did a little dance at the compliment.

“You’re suggesting a joint project,” T’Challa inquired, watching Erik’s lips quirk up into a smile.

“If you think you can keep up with me,” he smirked, turning in his chair so he was fully facing T’Challa and the look that he shot his way had lust stirring deep in T’Challa’s loins.

“I don’t remember having any issues keeping up with you before but it comes down to a question of stamina, it would pain me if I had to bring you to Shuri for exhaustion treatment,” he retorted, watching the way the Erik’s fingers curled into a fist where it was resting on his leg, drawing T’Challa’s attention to the growing bulge in the man’s trousers.

“You’re something else you know that,” Erik scoffed, “Out there you’re all polish and grace but the second you get going you go from king in the streets to freak in the sheets in the blink of an eye. A man could get whiplash around you.”

T’Challa laughed, leaning back in his seat even though he didn’t remembering leaning forward. “It is a talent born from many lectures. A king is supposed to be polish and grace but I’m also just a man beneath the crown and the expectation.”

“Think we’ve had this conversation before and decided that you weren’t just anything,” Erik pointed out and this time it was T’Challa who scoffed.

“We will have to agree to disagree,” he offered up.

Erik hummed in agreement, “Right let’s start this thing,” he demanded and T’Challa was most definitely not sulking at the abrupt one-eighty.

And Erik had the gall to talk about whiplash when T’Challa was fairly certain that his libido was one masturbation session away from mutiny.

Sadly Erik had his priorities straight, no matter how much it irked T’Challa to admit it so he turned to the schematics, batting away Erik’s hand when it started sneaking to his side of the table.

“I’m just trying to improve your crappy idea,” Erik muttered.

“Crappy?” T’Challa spluttered, “A minute ago you were complimenting my idea and now it’s inferior?”

“I didn’t say it was inferior but there’s always room for improvement,” Erik retorted with a smug smile.

“I would think more about improving how you would lock out say an identical twin out of disabling another’s bracelet before you start slinging mud at my work,” T’Challa shot back and Erik glared at him before bring his attention back to his own work.

“Think I can’t do it, you just watch me, if the cops can differentiate that shit then my techs gonna do it too, just better,” he muttered to himself and T’Challa smiled because perhaps this wasn’t the romance of his mama and his baba but it still felt damn good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we observe the mating ritual of the wild Erik-bird. Someone send help for T'Challa.


	11. Chapter 11

T’Challa wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Shuri but what she actually manged was beyond whatever he could have imagined especially after she’d all but summoned them to T’Challa’s rooms.

The large table was not only decked out with the dishes he’d prepared but Shuri had gone a step above that, displaying each region that the dish had originated in and as T’Challa watched Erik circle the spread, his eyes scanning the little blurbs of information that came with each dish he couldn’t help but tug Shuri closer in a one-armed hug that she accepted as her due.

“So what’s all this then?” Erik inquired finally and Shuri scoffed.

“It’s food but if you have a problem with it…” she threatened taking a step towards the table, only to be cut off by Erik placing himself between her and the food.

T’Challa rolled his eyes skywards when Shuri let out a little growl at the action.

“I didn’t say I don’t want it, just wanted to know the occasion,” Erik muttered, his gaze flicking to T’Challa, “I’m guessing this was what you were doing before?” he demanded and while T’Challa had originally wanted subtlety and maybe some mystery, he wasn’t going to lie to Erik.

Instead he inclined his head and apparently that was all the go ahead Erik needed because he was pulling out a seat before T’Challa had completed the motion, his hands hovering above the closest dish.

“Am I supposed to do this in a certain way or something? I don’t wanna mess with your traditions, you know?” he asked, his voice softer than usual and T’Challa could almost see the ice melting from Shuri’s demeanour at that.

“You’re supposed to eat it and tell us if you enjoy it,” Shuri explained and Erik nodded, his eyes scanning the table again before they locked on the jollof rice.

T’Challa wasn’t nervous, he knew that his cooking was good but he wasn’t sure what Erik’s interpretation of the dish would be. From his experience a lot of Americans leaned heavily on salt and sugar to mask most of the taste of their foods and there wasn’t an abundance of either in that particular dish because T’Challa had always been conscious of the health of his Baba and Mama…even Shuri, despite the fact that her metabolism seemed to burn through anything she got her hands on.

Clasping his hands behind his back he watched as Erik scooped up a forkful, his eyes dropping to the little information blurb just to the left of the dish as he chewed.

His face was devoid of any expression that would indicate what he thought of the meal and T’Challa cocked a brow when instead of saying anything Erik kept reading even after he’d swallowed.

“This is a Nigerian dish, right?” he asked indicating to the words he’d been reading intently. At T’Challa’s nod, he took another bite, chewing even slower and T’Challa could almost feel Shuri vibrating at his side. “It’s really good,” Erik offered up finally, his lips tipping up into a smirk when he met T’Challa’s gaze.

“Maybe lead with that next time,” Shuri snapped but T’Challa couldn’t help the chuckle that left him when Erik grinned.

“What theory are you creating now?” he asked because he’d spent almost ten months in Erik’s presence, he was well aware of the way that Erik’s mind worked. He didn’t just observe their culture, he broke it down into pieces and rebuilt it in a way that he could understand, in a way that would make Erik’s knowledge of every aspect of their society seem almost natural. He guessed that was why Erik had been so good at his job, his methods made him something of a cultural chameleon, allowing him to slip in and out of character as and when he wanted to.

Erik gestured at the other dishes, “All of these come from different regions of Africa, so does that mean that your culture does the same?”

“It does to an extent, but aren’t you more interested in the food?” Shuri inquired, her arms crossed as she watched Erik and T’Challa wanted to laugh because Shuri was learning Erik just as Erik was trying to learn their way of life.

“I am, I mean if this is all mine then I’m definitely not gonna share it because this alone makes me want to…” he trailed off with a dirty grin shot T’Challa’s way, one that T’Challa responded to with a reproachful look because he was well aware that Erik was trying to bait Shuri…a fact that hadn’t been lost on Shuri either if the way she was glowering at him was any indication.

“My point is, if this is another one of those courting gifts I want to understand the significance behind it,” he added and Shuri’s hackles lowered even as T’Challa mind grabbed the way that Erik had almost seemed to already know what was expected of a courting gift despite not having understood that T’Challa’s offer of assistance before had fallen into the same category. The sudden surge of knowledge either meant that Erik had been digging in the archives or he’d been given the information and from what T’Challa had observed the only person that Erik would have gotten that information from was Ramonda.

“The dishes themselves aren’t important, it’s the intent behind it,” Shuri explained and Erik paused as he was about to scoop up another forkful, his gaze shifting from Shuri to T’Challa.

“So what’s the intent behind this?” he inquired but this time T’Challa was the one who smirked.

“That’s up to you to figure out,” he offered up, keeping his expression innocent when Erik narrowed his eyes at him.

The look in Erik’s eyes was quite clear…challenge accepted.

*O*

T’Challa left Erik and Shuri to their sniping after the fourth argument he’d had to break up. His last glimpse of them was of Erik fending Shuri off with a spoon.

Their relationship was a strange thing but they both seemed satisfied with it so T’Challa was more than willing to leave them to it.

Instead his feet led him to his office and his mother.

He paused in the doorway, watching as Ramonda navigated several conversations at once, throwing out insults that sounded like compliments and subtly masked manipulations disguised as simple observations.

His earliest memories had been sitting at his mother’s feet as she did the same thing to their council. As a child T’Challa hadn’t understood how no one had realized that the person to be truly afraid of hadn’t been his Baba. He’d even told his mama so and she’d grinned at him, settling him on her knee before explaining how much easier it was to catch a fly with honey.

It was a lesson that had stuck with him for years and he’d often seen the pride in her eyes when he used her words to navigate a particularly tricky situation.

The knowledge of her intelligence also made him very much aware of how crafty she could be when she wanted to and apparently she had wanted to be especially crafty lately.

Ramonda glanced up as her conversations ended, the screens fading and the smile on her face was knowing even though T’Challa wasn’t sure what she thought she knew.

“Shuri passed by with quite a spread,” she greeted, gesturing for him to take a seat in his own office but T’Challa wasn’t about to be distracted by that.

Sitting down he eyed her, “It was a gift for Erik, one that I hardly had to explain.”

Ramonda pursed her lips, “He has been reading about our culture,” she offered up, the sly smile quirking her lips belying her sincerity.

“Mama,” T’Challa sighed ignoring her cackle of laughter. He’d long gotten used to the idea that the women in his life were determined to run it but he had to put up a token protest if nothing else.

Ramonda waved him off, “I offered nothing freely. You confused him with your offers to help. He was suspicious of the idea that such a thing could be seen as a courting gift. I simply explained to him what did and did not count.”

“And you didn’t guess that I would offer him food?” T’Challa snorted.

“I did but I didn’t expect it quite so soon…you’ve never been very good at romance,” she pointed out and T’Challa didn’t wince but it was a close thing. “I didn’t quite expect him to take it so seriously though your lack of reaction wasn’t very encouraging but he persevered.”

T’Challa blinked once and then again before his eyes widened in horrified understanding.

“The sweets?”

Ramonda hummed, “I offered to help but he didn’t think it would count if I did so I left him to it. I only mentioned your sweet tooth.”

“They were courting gifts?” T’Challa spluttered and Ramonda narrowed her eyes.

“What exactly did you think they were?”

“Gifts, simple gifts because Americans know little of our traditions,” he replied, searching his memory of Erik’s reactions but he could find nothing to signify the other man’s disappointment.

“He guessed as much but I defended you,” Ramonda snorted, rolling her eyes and T’Challa suddenly remembered where he and Shuri had picked up that particular habit from. “I’d really hoped you were less of your Baba’s son in this aspect but I suppose you couldn’t have my looks and my common sense, it would be unfair to those around you.”

T’Challa shot her a dirty look at that, “Thank you for the compliment,” he responded dryly but she just waved him off, her eyes flickering to her beads as they lit up again.

“Was there something else or were you trying to weasel your way back to work?” she inquired, her gaze sharp and T’Challa was very much aware that he had one right answer to that question.

“There was nothing else,” he admitted, stepping forward to drop a kiss to her hair before stepping away. “Though I do hope you won’t steal my throne.”

Ramonda snorted, “I would rather eat Okoye’s cooking,” she replied and T’Challa didn’t quite cackle as he left her to it but it was a close thing.

*O*

T’Challa’s feet took him to a familiar ledge and he sank down in the grass, fingers curled around a blade. Plucking it from the ground he lifted his hand, uncurling his fingers only to watch the wind snatch the blade of grass away, sending it dancing off into the distance.

There was so much that he needed to do, the war dogs had been shaken by Erik’s attack and the conflicting ideologies presented to them and even now T’Challa was still trying to find the right words to soothe the anger born from brother fighting brother.

Then there was the matter of W’Kabi. T’Challa wasn’t willing to just send the man away without speaking to him first, he owed W’Kabi that much but he found that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t force himself to take that first step…to see the man he’d once called family locked away like a common criminal.

Then there was the matter of the Accords, he had listened to Steve’s arguments over and over but the fact remained that there had to be some sort of boundary, something that kept those with powers in check because T’Challa had seen more than once what power without morals could do.

There was so much but he was only one man and sometimes the crown sat heavier than he’d ever thought possible.

His thoughts shattered as his beads flashed.

Activating them T’Challa couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at Tony’s familiar scowl.

“I’m calling foul, why am I just finding out that you had a potential minion for me?” Tony demanded in lieu of a greeting and before T’Challa could ask what the man was on about now Aneka’s face appeared just over Tony’s shoulder and from the sudden height advantage T’Challa guessed that she was standing on something.

“Yeah, why didn’t you tell me you were cool with Tony Stark?” she demanded, not giving T’Challa the chance to point out that they’d barely spoken. “I wanted to be this guy when I was growing up. He had all the money, the guys and the girls plus the _tech.”_

“Okay…” Tony murmured, “I’m suddenly getting a mad scientist vibe of you and that’s actually creepy.”

Aneka didn’t even acknowledge his words, “Did you know he built a person? Like not a person-person, he built an A.I. that became a person? Have you talked to Jarvis? He’s super cool and he’s always learning and people are always talking about a soul and shit but that guy definitely has a soul.”

“Hello Aneka,” T’Challa greeted deadpan and the look Aneka shot his way said volumes.

“You think you’re gonna distract me with proper manners but you’re not ‘cause I’m getting my hands on Dum-E even if it means blackmail.”

Tony scoffed at that, glancing up at her, “Greater people than you have tried.”

“Do those greater people know you’re banging tall, dark and crazy because I bet I could make a…”

The rest of Aneka’s words were muffled by the hand Tony had over her mouth.

“Kids,” Tony laughed nervously and T’Challa made an effort not to stare at the emerald bracelet on the man’s wrist.

“You can get skype dates if that’ll make you happy,” Tony hissed at Aneka moving his hand when the girl nodded.

“Try that again and I’m punching you in the nuts,” she informed him, “You’re lucky you’re sort of cute.”

Tony mouthed the words ‘sort of cute’ to himself and T’Challa snorted, freezing when the sound caught Aneka’s attention.

“Don’t know what you’re laughing about because I can bet Erik doesn’t know about your little exchange gimmick,” she pointed out, crossing her arms and the hair on the back of T’Challa’s neck prickled at the look she levelled on him.

“He is not yet aware of it,” he admitted, blinking at the smirk that curled the girl’s lips. She was so like Erik that it was actually terrifying.

“The king caught feelings, huh?” she mused, waving him off when he opened his mouth to refute that, “It’s cool, dude, we can’t judge. His baby daddy is an alien god thing,” she informed him, ignoring Tony’s squawking and desperate hand gestures as she blurted out his secret, “I’m probably gonna take over the world when I’m old enough to drink, you wanting to get in the sack with Erik is the least of my worries.”

“Are you sure she’s just a fourteen year old and not you know…a demon?” Tony demanded, bristling when Aneka patted him on his head.

“I’ve got lots of adult-wrangling experience,” she offered up before beaming at T’Challa, “So I hear I’m seeing you in the flesh in a few hours?”

T’Challa nodded when she just stared at him.

“Cool, you seem like an okay guy, bit slow on the feels side but Erik’s worse so I guess you deserve each other.”

“Thank you?” T’Challa responded. He hadn’t been around teenagers for years but he had the feeling that even if he had Aneka would still be odd and terrifying.

She smiled at him, “It’s cool, dude. I’ve got a feeling that we’re gonna get along just fine.”

“Run,” Tony mouthed and T’Challa wondered if it was too late to abdicate the throne. He was almost certain that his mama wouldn’t kill him if he named her as Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aneka is a busy young lady on a mission, she hasn't got time for your foolishness T'Challa.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, between my birthday, having the flu and then procrastinating like crazy a few days turned into weeks but the lovely el_gilliath saved you all by being my beta and prodding things along. You are awesomesauce \o/

T’Challa hadn’t noticed how little time he’d had to himself until he found that he could barely remember his own hobbies. He’d spent so long being caught in his nation’s needs that he’d almost forgotten that he had needs of his own.

His feet led him pass the labs and down into the mountain.

The workers barely spared him a glance as they tended to the herb that it had taken Shuri months to recreate and T’Challa was grateful for the anonymity that afforded him.

He didn’t stop until he found the hideaway he’d often retreated to when the mantle on his shoulders had weighed too heavily, even as a child.

Sinking to his knees he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the mountain…the scent of his people.

His mind ebbed and flowed, thoughts blossoming before being swept away and T’Challa let them, focusing instead on his breath and where it seemed to echo within his chest.

He could almost feel Bast here, like a warm presence curled around his shoulders and he wondered if his father had been able to feel her too.

He’d never admit it but the way that Erik had taken to the power afforded to him had scared T’Challa. The doubt had clawed at his mind as he watched Erik heal, unsure of if Bast had decided that Erik would be a better avatar.

It wasn’t the thought of being powerless that had caused his fear because he’d trained with the Dora Milaje; he could kill a man with little thought. The strength that he’d been blessed with just kept him on par with the other advanced humans and alien beings he was pitted against.

What had scared him was how good it had felt just for a moment…the knowledge that someone else could carry his burden for him, that he could finally rest. It had been almost euphoric.

At least it had been until Erik had almost run them into the ground and then T’Challa had wrestled the power back, determination overriding his weariness.

He didn’t feel tired now, not when his mother was helping him and Shuri was throwing her weight behind him. Not when he had Okoye to see the things he couldn’t, to protect his blind spots.

Even Erik was helping in own way, easing some of the guilt that had been eating at T’Challa every time Wakanda’s code of secrecy had stayed his hand.

Now T’Challa felt like he could breathe and be the man he’d always wanted to be.

The thought was shattered by the flashing of his beads and T’Challa’s brows furrowed as Nakia appeared before him.

*O*

“What do you mean they’re fucking gone?” Erik snarled, his fury licking at T’Challa’s calm like a fire trying to eat its way through the cool waters holding it back. “How do you lose a group of kids?”

“They were not lost, they were stolen,” Nakia snapped right back, her eyes narrowed with anger, the expression smoothing a little when she faced T’Challa. “They were to be escorted to our planes, they were inside this building. The only people here are Wakandan.”

“Which means someone stabbed us in the back again,” Okoye finished for her.

T’Challa curled his fingers into a fist before forcing himself to uncurl them; he couldn’t let his fury guide him, not now. “Who was assigned to accompany them?”

“There were only two guards, they didn’t need more, not when they were here,” Nakia sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“From which tribe?”

Erik’s voice was ice cold but there was something in his eyes that said he already knew the answer to his question.

Nakia glanced at T’Challa, keeping silent until he inclined his head. “The border tribe… one of the two was Lenana,” she whispered and Okoye sucked in a sharp breath.

“I will kill them,” she snarled, “As if W’Kabi has not done enough now I must look for traitors everywhere I turn even when I went as far as begging for their forgiveness?”

“You’re gonna have to get in line, Xena,” Erik cut in.

“Oh you’re all getting in line because in about an hour a really pissed off Asgardian is going to realize that one of his kids is missing,” a familiar voice interrupted.

Tony Stark’s expression was something T’Challa had never seen before, at least not on this man.

“Consider this a heads up, if you don’t find them by then, there’ll be nothing for anyone to kill because he’s going to _eat_ them…that’s if I don’t get them first. No one touches my kid and walks away from it,” Tony warned, his tone so bloodthirsty that the panther snarled in the back of T’Challa’s head.

“We will be there in thirty minutes,” T’Challa responded, standing. “Nakia I want the tracking on the beads switched on,” he ordered waiting until Nakia nodded before turning to Okoye, he didn’t have to say anything to her.

“I will prepare our transportation,” she informed him before stalking away.

“Tony, these are my people, I should bring punishment on them,” T’Challa explained and Tony’s eyes narrowed.

“You get two hours and that’s just because they can’t actually hurt her but after that…” he trailed off but T’Challa was grateful for that at least.

The screen flickered off as T’Challa turned to face Erik.

“I’m going,” Erik informed him.

“You’re a wanted man,” T’Challa pointed out.

“Then let them try to fucking lock me up but those two kids are my family and you don’t get to do this shit alone, so I’m going.” He repeated.

T’Challa sighed but he knew that nothing he could say would change Erik’s mind and he didn’t have the time for an argument.

“You will keep out of sight and there will be no use of our tech. I don’t want anything to be able to identify us,” T’Challa demanded but Erik just smirked.

“You’ve forgotten I did this shit for a living,” he retorted. “Just point me at the people I’ve got to break.”

This could all blow up in his face but T’Challa wasn’t about to stop to consider it not when children’s lives hung in the balance.

The traitors knew he’d come after them but they might not have expected Erik to follow him.

It was an element of surprise that they needed especially with a deadline.

*O*

Erik followed closely behind T’Challa as they boarded the plane, taking a seat silently and the expression on his face was as cold as the first time they’d met.

T’Challa didn’t try to speak to the man; instead he pulled up the screen where Nakia was waiting.

“Do we have a location?” he asked.

Nakia nodded, “It’s a warehouse at the edge of the city. I’ve sent the coordinates to Okoye,” she responded, her eyes flickering over his face. “We could be there just as quickly as you could.”

T’Challa shook his head, “I will not put you in that position. The council wasn’t consulted on this and they will want their pound of flesh. Let them take it from me and me only.”

Nakia frowned but she said nothing and T’Challa smiled at her, “Do not worry Erik will not let me die at any hands other than his own.”

“You got that shit right,” Erik snorted.

Nakia didn’t seem convinced but T’Challa knew she would follow his orders.

“Be safe,” she whispered and T’Challa nodded as the screen vanished.

“So I’m guessing we’re the cavalry?” Erik guessed, shattering the silence. He was staring out the window when T’Challa glanced at him.

“We are the only ones uniquely equipped to carry out this mission,” T’Challa agreed.

Erik glanced at him, “That’s cool. I don’t like fighting with people I don’t trust and at least I know you can keep up.”

T’Challa wasn’t sure if the words were a taunt or a compliment but he held his tongue nonetheless, closing his eyes while the panther snarled, clawing at the veil that separated man and beast.

*O*

Okoye set the plane down a few buildings away from the location the beads were pinging off, allowing them to approach the area on foot.

The signal led them to a derelict industrial site.

Several buildings scattered the grounds but the signal seemed to be coming from one building in particular which meant that the children were together. The knowledge that they wouldn’t have to go hunting in more than one place soaked some of the tension from T’Challa’s frame.  Further information fed to them by Okoye claimed that the warehouse should have been split into three sections, the front storage, the main body and a small room at the back which lead to the single office.

The warehouse was quiet from the outside but T’Challa could smell others inside the building. It made him wrinkle his nose and at his side Erik shook himself like a dog shedding water from its fur as they approached.

“You gonna knock or should I?” he asked.

T’Challa gestured for Erik to go ahead, baring his teeth in something that could be a smile when Erik started scaling the side of the building, heading for one of the small windows near the roof.

T’Challa was after him in a heartbeat, slipping into the building just in time to watch Erik pause above one of the unsuspecting guards.

In the darkness cast by the rafters, T’Challa’s eyes caught Erik’s gesture and he moved swiftly across the wooden beams.

Glancing at Erik, T’Challa dropped down just as Erik yanked the guard off his feet.

There was a sharp crack of bone breaking but T’Challa didn’t stop to investigate. Instead he slipped behind the other guard, knocking the gun from the man’s hand and when he tried to scrabble for it T’Challa slammed his face against the concrete.

The man’s body slumped against the floor and T’Challa ignored the blood that soaked his face when he rolled him over.

Stooping he forced the man’s mouth open, frowning at the lack of marking there.

“Not one of yours?” Erik guessed and T’Challa stood, his brow hiking at the gun in Erik’s hand. The man noticed his gaze and snorted. “It’s good as a bat,” he explained.

“No he isn’t,” T’Challa responded. “Counting Lenana, we expected only one more…did yours have any of our tech?”

“Nah, my two guys were definitely off the streets. They didn’t know what hit them just like this idiot,” Erik frowned, nudging the man with his foot. “Which means they’re getting help from somewhere and I can fucking guess where ‘cause I can’t see Lenana’s dumb ass knowing where you’d pick up mercs but Michael would.”

“Michael?” T’Challa inquired.

“The kid’s sperm-donor,” Erik spat, his eyes narrowing.

“Who would expect you to be here even if Lenana wouldn’t,” T’Challa guessed.

Erik’s grin was sharp, “Let’s give them what they want then.”

*O*

T’Challa balanced on the rafters, watching as the doors opened beneath him and Erik swaggered deeper into the warehouse, his expression cocky as he took in the scene.

Erik’s eyes didn’t once stray to the hidden door that they knew was at the back of the cavernous space and T’Challa had to give him credit, he was a better actor than they’d imagined.

Following Erik’s footsteps, T’Challa moved from one beam of wood to the other, the creaks that his weight caused hidden by the sound of Erik’s boots.

Erik paused in the middle of the space, lips curved into a smirk as he spread his arms wide.

“You’ve got something that belongs to me,” he greeted and Lenana scoffed, shifting in his seat…in his _throne_.

“And you are here to grovel for it?” he demanded.

Erik cocked a brow, “Nah, see I’m not your king. I don’t do the whole diplomatic shit, you give me Aneka and Kyra and I might let you walk out of here alive…”

Lenana’s guards shifted at that, hands going to their weapons but Erik tsked.

“I know you feel like you’re playing the big bad in here and yeah you might be able to stop a few bullets but could you stop a bomb?” he asked, voice almost gentle in the silence and T’Challa watched Lenana’s eyes widen. “It’s funny, I should thank you. See if you hadn’t pulled this shit I wouldn’t have gotten free. You made one helluva distraction and that’s why I’m giving you a choice. Give me my girls back and we both walk out of here, don’t and you die.”

“You would risk their lives too,” Lenana pointed out but his expression wasn’t as certain as it had been

“I feel like this could be the start of a really good partnership and I don’t want to rock the boat but do you think I’m stupid?” Erik laughed. “You can’t get to those kids. You wanna know why I know that? It’s because I helped create the prototype for the beads they’re all wearing. The only reason why we’re having this conversation is because something’s blocking the signal from the beads and I’m guessing that’s you’re doing. After all you did steal all of the vibranium your tribe had left but that was just enough to create one shield and going by how long you jammed the signal so you could get away  I can guess that you’ve got maybe two more hours before it fails and then you’re gonna have Okoye at your throat. I’m just trying to help you help yourself. If you give me my kids, I’ll tell you how to shut the beads down then I walk out of here and I never have to see your face again.”

Lenana stared at Erik for a moment and T’Challa held his breath but finally the man nodded, gesturing to one of his men and T’Challa followed him as he headed straight for the hidden door.

Slipping ahead of the man above the board partition, T’Challa paused just at the edge of the field that Lenana had created.

The field collapsed in on itself after a few seconds leaving a smaller pulsing layer and T’Challa’s feet hit the ground just as the man stepped into the room.

He kept to the shadows as the man entered a sequence on his own beads and another layer of the shield peeled away leaving the familiar darkened bubble of T’Challa’s own shields.

Stepping forward T’Challa covered the man’s mouth and nose, keeping his grip there as the man clawed at his arms. 

He only let go when the body in his arms went slack.

He lowered the man to the ground, frowning when a check revealed the very thing he’d been dreading.

One of the guards in the other room was the only other member who’d gone missing from the centre which meant that this man was one of his war dogs.

A familiar hum had T’Challa’s head snapping up just in time to watch an unfamiliar man step from around the shield, an open door behind him and T’Challa wondered how he’d missed that. Of course the warehouse would have had more than one exit but they’d been so focused on the interior layout that it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The weapon in the man’s hand had T’Challa’s lips twitching with the urge to scowl but instead he forced his expression to remain blank as he stood.

“Well, would you look at that? Guess Aneka wasn’t lying, huh?” the man smirked.

T’Challa straightened, his eyes tracking the man as he took a step closer.

“Get your hands up, your highness. You don’t want me getting twitchy especially not after you stuck your fucking nose where it wasn’t wanted,” the man snarled and T’Challa cocked a brow as he raised his hands into the air.

“Michael, I presume?”

“You presume right,” Michael spat before snorting. “I thought all this shit was a joke. There was no way a king was going to step down off his throne for some unwanted kids.”

T’Challa couldn’t school the sneer from his face at the words, “She’s wanted,” he snapped and Michael chuckled.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. She’s definitely wanted  now that I know how far you’d go to get her back. I could probably get a pretty sum for her if I played my cards right. I’m keeping Kyra, hopefully she won’t have as much of her mom in her but Aneka’s a pain in my ass. We could make a deal for her here and now.”

“You would sell your own child?” T’Challa demanded, keeping his eyes on Michael as the shield flickered behind him.

“That kid hasn’t been mine since she tried to sell me out to protect her mom, like I’m not the one who put a roof over her head and food in her belly.”

“I thought that was Erik,” T’Challa retorted, his lips curling into a smile when Michael took another step towards him, moving further from Lenana’s shield that had peeled itself back, revealing the group of children, protected by only his shields.

Aneka was watching her father with absolute disgust in her eyes and that was when T’Challa realized that he hadn’t enabled the blackout mode and the girl could hear every word the man said.

“The only thing Erik did was give them false hope then fuck off,” Michael snapped, his attention fixed on T’Challa and T’Challa watched over his shoulder as one of the older boys hefted up a bat that was glowing an odd green, swinging the thing back and forward a few times before he stared at T’Challa.

T’Challa took a step forward and Michael stepped back almost immediately.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” The man demanded.

T’Challa bared his teeth at him in a shark’s grin. “I am testing something.”

“Testing…” Michael spluttered. “You think I won’t blow your fucking head off?” he demanded.

The teen was directly behind the man now and T’Challa clasped one hand over the other, fingers twisting his beads.

“I’m testing two things. How stupid you are and how hard-headed you are,” T’Challa carried on, watching as Michael pressed what he must have thought was the trigger of the weapon.

“Seeing as you just locked your own weapon, that answers the first test…” T’Challa snorted, taking another step forward and Michael back up just as the shield dropped, the weapon falling from his lax fingers.

The sound of it hitting the floor was smothered beneath the sound of the bat slamming into the man’s head.

Michael crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut even as the bat vanished in a gust of green mist.

“That’s for my mom, you asshole,” Aneka snarled and T’Challa had to laugh even as he looked over the children.

“Are you all alright?” he asked.

A chorus of affirmatives had the tension in his shoulders lifting for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Where my Papa?” the voice came from somewhere close to Aneka and when he glanced down he frowned at the unfamiliar little girl staring up at him, her green eyes wide and a similar shade of green mist coating her hands.

Before T’Challa could placate the child or inquire about the mist Aneka beat him to it.

“Tony is probably gonna bust you out any minute now,” she grinned, “Then you can tell him how you kicked ass with your magic.”

“Kick ass,” the toddler repeated almost solemnly and now that Aneka had said it T’Challa could see the resemblance.

The door opening behind him had T’Challa grabbing the discarded weapon, aiming it at the doorway as he put his body between the children and whoever was coming through the door.

What actually came through the door was a body, followed by a scowling Erik.

“I told that fucker I was gonna beat some respect into him,” he muttered and T’Challa couldn’t help the snort that left him, the sound softening into a chuckle when Aneka barrelled into Erik, Kyra pinned between their bodies. Erik folded himself around the two as if he could shield them from the world and T’Challa forced himself to look away and give them their privacy.

Something tugged at his trousers and when he looked down he found himself face to face with the little girl who was apparently Tony’s daughter.

The girl held her hands up, shrewd eyes scanning his face, “Up now, please.” It was both a request and an order and T’Challa was suddenly sure that the child was definitely Tony’s.

*O*

T’Challa busied himself hauling the children’s captors into a group as Erik checked on each one. Aneka had taken Tony’s daughter, whose name was apparently Hel if the toddler was to be believed and honestly while a part of T’Challa was certain that she was just butchering her own name as children were won’t to do, a much bigger part of him was fairly certain that Tony could and would name his child that if only to be contrary.

T’Challa was thankful for the silence as he dropped another unconscious body into the small heap.

He’d watched Erik as the children surrounded him, he’d seen the easy way the man carried himself, eons away from the wariness that seemed to constantly follow him while he was in their home.

Erik’s smile was bright and when he laughed at a joke one of the teens made something dark curled in the pit of T’Challa’s stomach.

He wanted to be a good man, he wanted to be a better man but he wanted to keep the Erik who he’d come to know too.

Closing his eyes T’Challa exhaled in the silence because he knew that he couldn’t have both.

Straightening he watched as Aneka rounded up the others.

Erik glanced at him and the look in his eyes was open and happy and it made the words fall from T’Challa’s lips without thought.

“Give me your hands,” he choked out.

Erik’s brows pulled into a furrow. “What?”

“I want to see your cuffs,” T’Challa explained and the way that Erik immediately held out the hand not holding Kyra up told T’Challa that he was making the right decision.

Erik watched him silently as T’Challa entered the familiar sequence.

The locks clicked and T’Challa caught both of the cuffs as they opened and plummeted towards the floor.

“What the fuck did you do?” Erik hissed, his eyes wide.

“This is your chance, your chance to be the type of man you could have been and be free at the same time,” T’Challa smiled, his cheeks aching with the effort of keeping the expression. “What you told Lenana was right, this is your distraction.”

“T’Challa…” Erik started but T’Challa just stepped back, taking the cuffs with him.

“Give them both the life you wanted for them,” he ordered.

“They’ll crucify you for this,” Erik pointed out.

“They will try but I am their king…just not yours,” T’Challa snorted.

“Technically you are,” Erik shot back, rocking Kyra almost absentmindedly when she started to fuss.

“Then as your king, I order you to leave,” T’Challa ordered.

Erik was still and silent for what felt like forever and T’Challa turned away, busying himself with binding the men behind him with the rope he’d found.

When he turned back around, Erik, Aneka and Kyra were gone.

His chest hurt but he smiled as he stepped forward and picked up Hel.

A caged bird would sing just as well as a free one but they were singing for two different reasons. It was something that Zuri had taught him and T’Challa refused to be Erik’s cage

*O*

T’Challa felt a bit like a duck as he led his procession from the warehouse. He wasn’t surprised to find Ironman waiting for them as he stepped outside, the armour unfolding as the child in his arms vanished and T’Challa almost choked on his own breath only to find the Hel in Tony’s arms, beaming up at him.

Tony rubbed their noses together until she giggled then glanced at him, taking in his expression of horror. “Did I forget to tell you about the magic?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“You did, though I probably should have guessed from the description of your baby-daddy,” T’Challa retorted, the unfamiliar term tripping on his tongue but it was worth it just for the scandalized look that Tony shot his way.

“Speaking of baby daddies, where’s your husband-to-be?” Tony asked.

T’Challa held his gaze as he shrugged, “He slipped away in the confusion.”

Tony pointedly glanced from the group of teens milling about to the empty ground. “Confusion, right,” he scoffed, the expression shifting into a tiny smile. “You’re basically a saint, you know that?”

T’Challa shook his head but Tony just steamrolled over him.

“So did my baby stun you or what? I felt her using magic…”

“Felt?” T’Challa asked, grateful for the topic change. Okoye would soon arrive to pick them up and he would have to tell her the truth but for now he could let himself get lost in this.

“Someday I’ll tell you about the perks of being space married and astral-pregnant but basically I’ve got a mental link to this little one,” he explained bouncing Hel who just flopped around like a limp noodle.

“Tired, Papa,” she huffed with more exasperation than any toddler had the right to have.

“That’s what you get for taking after your dad. Science never makes you tired,” Tony informed her, nuzzling at her hair.

“Please don’t try to recruit your own child,” T’Challa laughed, snorting at the unimpressed look that Tony shot his way.

“Don’t listen to him, Hela, you’re going to be the best scientist the world has ever seen,” Tony cooed, grinning around the hand that he got pushed against his face when he tried to kiss the little girl again.

The familiar hum of a plane caught both their attention and they looked up, T’Challa’s lips stretching into a grin as the plane touched down and Okoye stepped out, the expression vanishing when Erik appeared behind her, a smirk stretched across his face.

“What have you done?” T’Challa demanded, striding forward, barely noticing as Okoye moved out of their way.

“What you think I’m gonna buy a ticket when I can just hitch a ride back?”

“You are throwing away your only chance at freedom,” T’Challa snarled. “If you go back…”

“Then I’m going home…that’s what you said, right? When you met my old man you said you were bringing him home.”

“But it is not your home, you’re not like you were with the children when you’re with us.”

Erik paused here, scratching his neck, “Yeah, well that might be because I was trying to impress your ass with how mature I was. These guys are used to me just being a big kid most of the time,” he explained. “Look, basically what I’m saying is you don’t need to rescue me from you ‘cause I sort of really like you in case you didn’t notice it and I’m not gonna let Shuri think she’s won. Plus I promised Ramonda I’d help with her gardens in the spring so I guess what I’m saying is you’re stuck with me.”

T’Challa blinked against the stinging in his eyes. “You are a foolish man,” he whispered.

Erik took a step forward, “You’re the one who put a ring on it,” he snorted, curling their fingers together and T’Challa let him. “Now I want my cuffs back because you know they made me look badass.”

T’Challa narrowed his eyes at him, “You broke them,” he guessed and Erik beamed at him.

“About two months back but they still look cool.”

“Not to interrupt your big love confession or anything but can everyone agree that we won’t shoot the alien?” Tony called out from behind them and when T’Challa turned to ask what he was taking about something very big and very blue slammed into the ground, sending debris and dust flying.

T’Challa got a glimpse of blood red eyes before a snarl shook the streets.

“Where is my daughter?”

T’Challa glanced from the towering creature to Tony, to the little girl who was bouncing in his arms as she turned blue before raising his eyes skywards and asking Bast for deliverance.

 “Bet you’re glad the most I do is break shit,” Erik mused and T’Challa would have kissed him if not for the smug grin plastered on his face. As it was he elbowed him in the gut and moved away to at least calm things down because the faster he got things settled the sooner all of them could go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik is smooth when he wants to be and honestly all Hela wants is a nap.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter until next week now, you guys got like three in a row here. 
> 
> Huge thanks to el_gilliath for prodding and beta'ing, you continue to be awesomesauce \o/

“Astral-pregnant,” Tony muttered and T’Challa blinked at the projection of the man’s face. He was almost certain that they’d both dozed off in the middle of the conversation but he grasped at the threads of what they’d been discussing before.

“So she is part of your soul?” he inquired and Tony nodded around a yawn.

“I guess you could say that. I mean she’s the first of a few and I’m not complaining because I’ve seen labour and that shit is scary. I’m glad that they’re supposed to just pop out of the ether or something…”

“That is not in the least bit accurate,” a voice called from outside of T’Challa’s view and the dirty look Tony shot the speaker had T’Challa hiding a grin which morphed into another yawn.

“Look until you’re the one walking around barefoot and astral-pregnant you can shut your face,” Tony retorted, frowning when he glanced at T’Challa as if he was surprised to see the man still there. “Hey, how did your council take it anyway, you’re not in trouble, are you?”

T’Challa waved off his concern, “Why would I be in trouble for ferrying a group of children home?” he inquired innocently, lips ticking up into a smile when Tony snorted.

“I always forget that you’re pretty damn devious when you want to be,” he admitted, trying to muffle yet another yawn.

“Anthony, don’t you think it’s time you got some sleep?”

“Ohh, I got called Anthony, that’s code for he’s pissed off,” Tony whispered to T’Challa before turning his attention to something off screen. “You do realize that I’m an adult?”

“Your behaviour and height says otherwise,” was the quick response and T’Challa wasn’t quick enough to cover his own bark of laughter though he did turn it into a coughing fit when Tony turned back to him with a wounded look.

“I’m having a serious…” Tony’s words trailed off into a squawk as he levitated out of his seat. “Seriously?”

“Say goodbye to your friend,” Loki demanded as he came into view, one hand raised and the now familiar green around it explained Tony’s sudden ability to overcome gravity.

“Goodbye to your friend,” Tony snarked a second before the transmission died.

“I think the guy’s got the right idea,” Erik called and T’Challa blinked slowly as he focused on the man standing in the doorway to his office.

Erik snorted, walking around the desk to perch in front of T’Challa. “You’re so out of it.”

“I am a little tired,” T’Challa conceded, humming when Erik leaned forward, his nose brushing against the top of T’Challa’s ear.

Raising a hand T’Challa buried it in Erik’s hair tugging the man’s head down until they were almost breathing each other’s air.

This was the first time they’d been alone since they landed almost forty-eight hours ago.

Between running interference for his mother and securing Lenana a place with the Jabari…a place that M’Baku had seemed very eager to give him after hearing of the man’s crimes, T’Challa had barely had a chance to sit down much less rest.

Thankfully the council had been more than willing to ignore Lenana’s involvement under Ramonda’s advisement…T’Challa wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what she’d threatened them with as long as it kept him out of another shouting match.

“Thought you were tired,” Erik chuckled and T’Challa refocused on the look on the man’s face.

“I am,” he admitted, allowing Erik to untangle his fingers from where they were still looped in his hair.

Erik stood then, pulling T’Challa up with him. “The kids are sleeping….” He offered up as he steered them out the door.

“In your bed?” T’Challa guessed but Erik shook his head.

“Originally they were but Aneka decided to get sassy so she’s stuck in her room for the minute,” Erik shot him a sly grin. “She thinks she can break out but I gave her the room beside Okoye’s…your mom said that was okay.”

“It’s fine,” T’Challa hummed, bumping into Erik’s back when the man stopped and turned.

“You’re really out of it,” Erik laughed softly and T’Challa blinked at him.

Somewhere between the space of one blink and another he was being coaxed onto Erik’s bed and he went blindly, tangling a hand in Erik’s shirt and dragging him down with him.

“Can’t believe your dumbass thought I didn’t care about you,” was the last thing he heard as sleep rushed up to greet him.

*O*

T’Challa woke before Erik but he didn’t move an inch other than to turn so that he was facing Erik.

Reaching out across the space separating them, he paused, fingers curling into a fist before he forced them to relax.

Erik had had his chance to leave, his chance to leave them all behind and start a new life for himself and yet here he was in T’Challa’s bed…or in his own bed by T’Challa’s side.

The thought had him moving again, his fingers finding the curve of Erik’s jaw, skin catching on the stubble that Erik had taken to shaving off whenever he could.

Erik’s eyelids flickered and one eye blinked open, slowly focusing on T’Challa’s face.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice husky with sleep and so fond that T’Challa was moving before he knew it.

Erik hummed as their lips met, his hand coming up and fingers curling around T’Challa’s wrist even as he pushed further into the embrace.

T’Challa let his eyes slip closed, darkness rushing in around him as the kiss deepened. There was an ache in his chest, a yawing abyss of need that seeped into his veins and he growled when Erik’s teeth caught his lower lip, tongue almost instantly flickering out to soothe the pain.

Pushing in closer, his hand fell from Erik’s face as the man moved so that he was lying on his back and T’Challa was above him.

Erik’s fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it from where it had still been tucked into his trousers and T’Challa pulled away just enough for Erik to tug the thing over his head. It went sailing somewhere but T’Challa barely noticed it when Erik tugged him back down, both hands cupping his face and it was just them in this moment.

One of Erik’s hands dropped to T’Challa’s hip, stroking over the exposed skin just above his trousers and the sensation made T’Challa gasp, breaking the kiss as he pressed his hips down against the hard plane of Erik’s stomach.

Erik was staring up at him with something that T’Challa couldn’t name painted across his face and T’Challa traced the slick curve of his lower lip with his thumb.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, delighting in the way that Erik’s eyes widened before narrowing.

“Nah, if we’re talking about stupidly pretty people then you’ve got me beat,” Erik replied, his other hand joining the first on T’Challa’s hips. “It used to really piss me off because I was trying to be mad at you but you just always looked so fucking…” he trailed off, struggling to find the words but T’Challa dipped down, swallowing the word and Erik’s breath.

This time it was Erik who pulled away, chest heaving beneath T’Challa’s hand.

“You can’t shut me up like that,” he taunted and T’Challa laughed.

“I wouldn’t dream,” he teased, closing his eyes again when Erik’s fingers trailed from his hips up to his ribs. “I never dreamed of having this,” he whispered, the truth so raw that it hurt his throat to let the words free. “I wanted to do right by you and I accepted that while you could learn to tolerate me…”

“Well that’s some bullshit,” Erik cut in and T’Challa’s gaze snapped to his. “Even when you were pissing me off I still wanted you and that really fucked me up for a while. Then you saved Aneka and Kyra and you listened to me when I told you how to fix my problems and you gave my old man his home back. You were basically a fucking saint and it was really hard to keep hating you…after that it was really hard to not want to keep you but you’re sort of shit at romance and everything I did went over your head.”

T’Challa snorted, “It didn’t, I just didn’t let myself read into it.”

“But you’re reading into it now?” Erik demanded, stroking over the sensitive skin just above T’Challa’s groin and he couldn’t quite help the way his hips twitched into the touch.

“I am reading into it,” T’Challa agreed, smirking when Erik toyed with the waist of his trousers.

“Good ‘cause my next step was going to be to ask M’Baku for tips and tricks. If you got a freaking rock as a courting gift it’d be your own fault.”

“Are you saying I’m not going to get something hard?” T’Challa taunted, watching as Erik’s tongue flickered out to wet his lips.

“That what you want?” Erik asked and T’Challa shrugged nonchalantly like he wasn’t all but panting for it after going so long with Erik dangling before his eyes like a carrot in front of a horse.

“If it is what you want,” he offered up and Erik frowned.

“Thought you’d want it the other way around,” he explained, his hands shifting to T’Challa’s thighs. “I mean you’re the king and all.”

T’Challa wrinkled his nose at that, “You have odd ideas of what is to be expected of a king but I’m not coming to you as a king, I’m here as your intended, if you would have me.”

“I’d have you any way I could get you,” Erik whispered.

“Then I would have you like this, hard and attending to my pleasure,” T’Challa offered up, dipping down so that he could nuzzle at Erik’s neck, biting at the expanse of skin when Erik tipped his head back with a  groan. “I would have you rough and deep inside me or I would have you tender and sweet.”

“Fuck,” Erik growled, his grip shifting to T’Challa’s ass, tugging him back so that T’Challa was riding the hard line of his cock through the layers of fabric separating them.

T’Challa’s fingers found Erik’s hair as he ground down, the sudden pressure and friction tearing a groan from his own throat.

“I want you with me, at my side, in my bed. I want you only as you would want me,” T’Challa muttered, words running into each other as he twisted down to match the up thrust of Erik’s hips, pleasure clawing at his spine and pooling low in his gut.

“I would have you as you would have me, nothing more, nothing less,” T’Challa snarled and Erik’s fingers tightened tugging him down into every thrust but T’Challa was too far gone for rhythm, pleasure exploding beneath his skin and he pressed his lips to Erik’s in a filthy messy kiss as the man groaned his own completion, nails scoring across T’Challa’s skin even as his hips rolled chasing the last dregs of his orgasm.

“Jesus Christ,” Erik breathed and though they worshipped two different Gods, T’Challa couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

*O*

T’Challa was getting used to waking up to Erik arguing with Shuri but it didn’t keep him from hauling a pillow over his head to block them out.

He’d never been so grateful for his own fastidiousness or Shuri would’ve been more than a little traumatized by the state she found him and Erik in.

“It’s six in the morning,” Erik hissed and T’Challa rolled his eyes at that because clearly Erik didn’t understand that as far as little siblings were concerned time meant nothing in the face the of their need.

“Move, whisker face,” Shuri demanded and T’Challa lifted one arm because he knew where this was going.

Shuri snuggled into him with a triumphant huff, “Mama’s giving you the day off but she says not to get used to it because you’re not good looking enough for her to give up her sleep for.”

“That’s a lie,” T’Challa muttered.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Shuri retorted almost immediately, groaning deep in her throat when T’Challa tugged at her braid. “Quit it, even if I’m bald I’ll still be better looking than you.”

“Yo, why does she get to just prance into you bed?”

Aneka’s familiar voice had T’Challa grinning but he still didn’t move from his hiding spot.

“Bed,” a softer voice piped up and Erik sighed.

“Fine but this ain’t gonna be a regular thing,” he groaned as the bed dipped beneath his weight. “Just go to sleep.”

T’Challa’s pillow shifted and when he opened his eyes he was face to face with little Kyra.

“Hello,” she whispered and T’Challa could feel his heart melting.

“Hello,” he responded, “Do you want to stay under here with me?”

“Yes, pwease,” she nodded and T’Challa adjusted the pillow and sheets so that she had more breathing room.

“Hey, don’t be trying to call dibs on my man,” Erik laughed from somewhere outside of their little cocoon.

“Don’t listen to him, little one. He’s just jealous that he can’t be under here with us,” T’Challa taunted a second before their hideaway was ripped from over their head.

“Look at that, now you’re out here with the rest of….”

To be fair Erik deserved the pillow that Shuri launched at his face.

“Alright, princess, this means war,” Erik snarled and T’Challa rolled out of the way with Kyra as Erik launched himself at Shuri.

They both went down in a fit of shrieks and curses, taking most of the sheets with them and T’Challa yawned as he sat up so he could keep an eye on the battle.

“Naughty Erik,” Kyra frowned from where she was standing and Aneka flopped down by her side, clutching at her leg to keep her steady despite the hand T’Challa had instinctively pressed against her back.

On the floor Shuri had managed to gain the upper hand and was apparently trying to stifle Erik with one of the many pillows in her arsenal.

“I could get used to this,” Aneka snickered and T’Challa’s gaze shifted to her and the smile on her face.

“You should go and join them,” he coaxed, smiling at her when she glanced at him. “Kyra and I will be fine up here.”

“Yeah?” she asked and at T’Challa’s nod she launched herself at Erik just as he managed to get Shuri off of him and they all went down in a pile of limbs.

“Naughty,” Kyra whispered, tugging at T’Challa shirt and T’Challa couldn’t help but laugh at the little girl’s disapproval.

He could definitely get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought the smut was over...think again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't responded to last chapter's comments but I wanted to post this before bed. I'll get back to replying to you all this chapter.
> 
> Once again huge thanks to el_gilliath who hasn't run for the hills just yet. You are awesome!
> 
> Please read the tags, this chapter is potentially full of triggers.

T’Challa put down another of the folders and stared into the distance, making sure he didn’t meet Shuri’s eyes even though he could feel her staring at him.

“Brother, no,” Shuri sighed but T’Challa just steepled his fingers together and squinted at the smudge on his door.

“It’s one more child, just one,” he offered up and Shuri’s groan was heartfelt but so was T’Challa’s determination.

“You’ve said that eight times, that’s nine children. Nine children who were promised to your citizens who signed up for this,” she entreated and when T’Challa met her eyes he had to swallow past the lump in his throat, the words from Damion’s folders floating in front of his eyes. He’d been kicked out of his house when he was fourteen because he refused to answer to the name they’d given him, had refused to wear clothes that made him feel like the body he was in wasn’t his own.

“I can’t,” he whispered, fingers stroking over the folder. He hadn’t realized that the first batch of children were the ones whose cases had been the hardest, the ones whose scars ran so deep that T’Challa could feel them in his own soul. “There will be other children for them to have but I…” he trailed off, unable to find the words.

Thankfully Shuri had always been good at finding the words he lost.

“You feel like you love them already,” she offered up and T’Challa inclined his head in agreement.

“That’s eleven children if you include Aneka and Kyra,” Shuri pointed out, glancing at Okoye who’d been listening to the conversation silently.

“I doubt that you’re discouraging him,” Okoye snorted and T’Challa smirked as he gathered the folders, each of them a link to a face and a child that he would die for.

“Mama always said she wanted grandchildren,” T’Challa murmured and Shuri snorted.

“I don’t think she meant eleven.”

*O*

T’Challa inhaled as he stared out at the council. Erik was sitting by his side, silent and probably just as confused as the others when T’Challa didn’t immediately dismiss them all.

“I am sure that you are all aware of the exchange programme that we’ve put in place,” T’Challa started, keeping his expression blank. “Unfortunately I believe that this batch of children won’t be suitable…”

Erik sucked in a harsh breath at that but T’Challa didn’t stop.

“Nakia is preparing the next set of children to be sent out and I wish to pass on my apologies to the waiting families but I think it would be best for the first selection to remain here.”

The Merchant Tribe representative frowned at him. “To be sent back?”

T’Challa shook his head, “No, I will take personal responsibility for these children.”

Ramonda’s eyes widened but she said nothing and even if she had it would have been drowned out in the uproar.

“You cannot possibly mean to place them in the royal family…”

“The line of succession…”

“This cannot work…”

T’Challa listened to the shouts and it wasn’t until; they noticed his silence that they stopped speaking.

He waited for a beat, letting the silence drag on.

“The line of succession will be unaffected. I will never have a biological child so it will pass to Shuri’s offspring but if she doesn’t wish to have any I will name a successor. This is not a debate, this is my life and out of respect I have shared my decision with you. I will ask each child what they wish to do but any who wishes to stay here will be a part of my family, a matter that you have no control over.”

“But your duties,” the water tribe elder tried and this time T’Challa didn’t get to respond to him.

“I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands,” Erik cut in, his fingers brushing against T’Challa’s and when he glanced over Erik was grinning, the smile wide and honest in a way that it rarely ever was when he was facing the council. “I basically raised most of these kids and plus ain’t it sort of my job to back up my husband-to-be?” he taunted.

T’Challa quickly cut in before anyone else could protest. “I apologize again to all the families and any child who wishes to be placed with them will be but I hope they can understand,” he finished, indicating that the meeting was over.

Several of the members lingered but the majority left the room quickly.

T’Challa watched until the last one had gone before he turned to his mother only to find her smiling at him.

“You have such a big heart,” she snorted as she stood, taking his face in her hands so she could brush a kiss across his forehead. “I am proud of you, my son,” she whispered and T’Challa closed his eyes as her warmth moved away.

When he opened his eyes she was closing the door behind her, leaving him alone with Erik who was staring at him like he was something strange and terrifying.

“You’re not joking, are you?” Erik demanded, his tone soft.

T’Challa shrugged, “I’m not foolish, they would be fine with the families but I…I think I need them. I need to be someone I’ll be proud of and I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t do this…it was strange reading their stories. The more I read the less I wanted to let them go.”

“They’re a little messed up but they’re good kids,” Erik muttered and T’Challa nodded in understanding, though he wasn’t sure if Erik was just talking about the children anymore.

“I am a little messed up too,” T’Challa pointed out. “That’s why I want them to have the choice. I never wanted children…I never truly thought about it but I want this. I want them.”

Erik’s eyes flickered over his face and T’Challa held still as the man searched for something, his lips curving into a soft smile as he met T’Challa’s eyes.

“I really fucking lucked out, didn’t I?” Erik laughed and when he curled his fingers around T’Challa’s it felt a lot like a promise.

*O*

T’Challa had stood before kings and aliens, politicians and Gods. He’d felt terror so deep it made his bones ache and sorrow so real he could almost feel it tearing his heart to shreds but he’d never felt so unsure of himself until he stood in front of a group of children and tried to find the words to convince them to give him a chance when so many other adults had failed them.

He wanted to clasp his wrists behind his back but the child on his hip prevented him from doing that.

Kyra had her thumb in her mouth again and while T’Challa was aware that the habit was a bad one, he wouldn’t begrudge her this time…at least one of them need to have access to their comfort mechanism.

Ten pairs of eyes were fixed on him and T’Challa wasn’t sure why Aneka was sitting in the crowd other than the fact that she lived and breathed evil.

At his back Erik was silent and he was grateful for that because he needed to do this. He’d made the decision and he needed to ask the question.

Clearing his throat, he pasted on his best diplomatic smile.

“I won’t waste your time by introducing myself but I would like to explain why you’re here instead of with the families who put in their requests,” he started, pausing when one of the younger girls stuck her hand in the air.

The portfolios flickered through his mind until he found her name, Sasha, half of the only pair of twins they’d had at the centre. Her sister Tasha was watching her curiously but she said nothing as Sasha waved her hand so hard she rocked in her seat.

“You don’t have to raise your hand, Sash,” Erik laughed and T’Challa fought the urge to elbow him because good manners were never a burden.

“Is it true that you wanna adopt all of us?” she demanded.

Aneka spun in her seat with a hiss, “Seriously you’re just gonna sell me out like that?”

Tasha bumped her sister’s shoulder as they grinned, “To be fair, I was going to ask the same question,” she admitted and a ripple of agreement passed through the group.

“It’s not selling you out,” Damion cut in, eyes on T’Challa. “We just wanted to know what to expect without the whole song and dance.”

T’Challa inclined his head in understanding, “The simple answer to that is yes, I would like for all of you to remain here with Erik and myself but that’s up to you. Our family and the people within it will be under constant scrutiny especially given our current status. If any of you don’t feel comfortable with that, I fully understand.”

“Basically it’s your say,” Erik added on. “And I won’t be pissed, we can still see each other wherever you want to go.”

“Bruh, like I’m gonna pass up the chance to be a freaking prince,” Trey, the teen who’d knocked Michael out smirked.

“You’re technically not a prince,” Erik shot back but Trey just waved him off.

“Royal me up.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Erik sighed.

Kyra yanked her thumb from her mouth at that, tugging at T’Challa’s collar, “Bad word,” she pointed out, staring at Erik who grinned sheepishly at her.

“So what you think it’s just that easy?” Damien demanded and T’Challa had to fight the urge to straighten under the teen’s gaze. “Thanks for offering but what says you won’t give us up as soon as you figure out how fucked up we are? ‘Cause you wouldn’t be the first adult to think you could do this until you realize that that pretty little plan doesn’t fit in with reality…”

“Damien,” Trey hissed but the boy just shook his head, eyes never leaving T’Challa’s face.

“No, fuck that shit,” he snarled, leaning forward and there was pain written in every inch of his expression. It made T’Challa hold his tongue when he wanted to offer his sympathy because this child wouldn’t want any of it.

“Erik knows us but this guy, what does he know? Yeah, you swooped in a saved our asses but that don’t mean you get to play saviour again, not like this,” Damien continued, his gaze shifting from T’Challa to Trey, “What happens when he finds out that all those records say I’m biologically female? You know what it’s like getting built up until someone decides that you’ve got the wrong fucking body parts? That you’re not the person you know you are because biology says so? I’m sick of that shit, Trey. I’m sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wanna know here and now because I’ll go back, fuck all of this, I was surviving out there because I knew it, it was home. I don’t know anything here so yeah I’m not agreeing to this fairytale until I know that it ain’t gonna turn into some Hansel and Gretel shit.”

Damien’s words left the room silent…even Kyra was quiet, her face buried in T’Challa’s shirt but the silence didn’t last long.

Trey rocked in his seat, raising his chin as he met T’Challa’s eyes. “My ma wasn’t right in the head. They gave her all these names for the things she had and sometimes she’d forget them, just like sometimes she’d forget to take her pills,” he tugged up his shirt and T’Challa clenched his teeth at the sight of the burns littering the boy’s stomach. “One time she thought I was an enemy spy and she had to get information out of me…our social worker didn’t realize anything was wrong until I didn’t show up to school for three weeks. I get night terrors and it’s not even about what she did…I’m scared that I’m going to be like her. I don’t want to hurt the people I care about because I can’t do better.”

The teen behind Trey, Marcus if T’Challa was right, barely let him finish before chipping in. “I got kicked out because I liked boys and Ornette came with me,” he nodded towards his sister, the oldest girl in the group who was watching them silently. “She didn’t have to, she was an honour student, she had her entire life in front of her and she threw it away for me.”

“I didn’t throw shit away, you’re my baby brother,” Ornette cut in.

“You could’ve been graduating not picking up shitty jobs on the streets to make sure I got something to eat,” Marcus shot back but Ornette wasn’t done.

“And what about the rest of them, huh? What about Sasha and Tasha or Kevin, Tracy and Michael? We’re all kids but at least I could get a job. You think I’d be able to sleep at night not knowing where you were or what was happening to you…all of you? We’re family. Maybe not by blood but we’re family where it counts.”

Smoothing a hand down Kyra’s back, T’Challa let his lips tick up into a sad smile. “There are times when the idea of leaving my bed seems more trouble than its worth,” he started, eyes fixed on the blank wall behind Damien’s head. “I have days when I list every single thing that I must do because if I work through that list it feels like I’m human. Sometimes the burden of being king feels like a noose around my neck because no matter how much I want to help my hands are still tied and I cannot reach the ones who need me the most. I can be selfish, arrogant and prideful. Despite the circumstances of my birth I’m human and I will fail you,” he paused here, eyes closing as he remembered his Baba’s face. “I will fail you because I’m no more than you are, I will make mistakes but I will try to learn from them. I wish to learn every single one of you because you’ve been family to Erik and that makes you my family and while I’ve done many things in this life that I regret I’ve never left my family behind.”

“And everything we just said?” Damien asked, his tone less angry than it had been but still unsure.

“Was that meant to deter me?” T’Challa teased lightly before shaking himself. “I will never use who you are against you. I may need help to learn how to be the person you need me to be but never think that you aren’t exactly who you need to be.”

Damien nodded, “Then I think I speak for all of us…and I mean that officially because we had a meeting about what to say if Aneka wasn’t lying through her teeth…” Damian started.

“I try to be good to ya’ll and this is how you repay me,” Aneka groused, the smile on her face wide enough to almost hide the tear streaks, but Damian just ignored her.

“Basically the answer’s yes, officially. Unofficially, we were going to run away together if you split us up but you don’t have to worry about that.”

T’Challa cocked a brow at that, “And how were you going to survive?”

“We were going to live off the land and get Aneka to bring us food basically,” Sasha explained, “But I mean we’re not going to now, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You regretting this yet?” Erik taunted but T’Challa just grinned.

“I raised Shuri, I’d have found every one of them within the hour,” he shot back turning to the children, “However you are all welcome to try your escape attempt…just to prove a point.”

Aneka snorted, “Nah, I’m good. I’m not about to become a part of the circle of life just yet.”

Her words had the other children laughing and T’Challa grinned as he rocked Kyra…for some reason he felt like he’d just passed a test of some sort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess which child is the most like T'Challa? Can you? I feel like T'Challa is watching his life flash before his eyes. He doesn't deserve this (he totally does)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shifty eyes* I'm so sorry but things happened you see *coughs*
> 
> Thanks to el_gilliath for beta'ing this and generally prodding me to actually write. You've dealt with so much for this fic lol.

Despite everything else T’Challa wasn’t shocked when the children didn’t immediately approach him. He saw them and Erik over meals and passing in the corridors but other than Aneka and Kyra, who’d become something of a shadow for him, the others gave him a wide berth. If he’d been less busy and spent less time smoothing things over with the council and arranging for the next set of children to arrive he would have worried more about it…as it was the thought of the children…his children as the documentation claimed, only occupied every free second of rest that his mind had.

Exhaling through his nose T’Challa pushed the thought away and focused on his breath, keeping his attention on the rise and fall of his chest until his mind sank into the familiar nothingness that came with his morning meditation sessions.

The proximity alarm had a sigh riding his breath even as he opened his eyes and stood, inputting the opening sequence that had his door sliding open.

Damien’s scowling visage was the last thing he’d expected but T’Challa didn’t have the energy to be surprised so early in the morning, instead he indicated for Damien to enter his room, leaving the door open. No one would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation that T’Challa didn’t trust with his very life and the last thing he wanted was for the teen to feel trapped in any way.

“You’re getting me new HRT meds, why?” Damien demanded instead of a greeting and T’Challa was certain that his Baba was somewhere laughing at him.

Retaking his position on the mat he cocked a brow at Damien until he copied the action.

“You didn’t log your previous medication with the centre,” he offered up and Damien frowned.

“That’s ‘cause I ran out. Erik always paid for them but when he left we had to use the money for other stuff,” he explained.

“And that is why I got you a new dose of mediation,” T’Challa replied. “Erik told us of your previous dosage and the ones that we provided should be close enough until we can find a way of switching you to our own brand. I wanted to discuss it with you first as I wasn’t certain if you’d rather to continue with what you knew.”

“So you’re just gonna let me transition with no strings?”

“I’m not going to _let_ you do anything. I told you before, you are who you need to be, this is me learning how to support that,” T’Challa explained, “For us the process of transition is smoother as we’re not only more advanced in technology but in medicine as well. Erik explained the difficulties you went through trying to get what you needed. You will not find the same problems here.”

Damien seemed to mull that over for a moment, tugging at his sleeves and T’Challa let him. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d practically raised Shuri, he knew how complicated teenagers could be and he was familiar with the way they dug their heels in at the smallest hint of persuasion. Whatever Damien was thinking, he had to work through it on his own and T’Challa would be wait silently until then, no matter how long it took.

“Erik’s had boyfriends and girlfriends who acted like they were cool with it before…I mean they weren’t stupid, he’d have kicked them to the curb in a second if he thought they were fucking with us but they always started off cool,” Damien started, glowering at his hands. “The guys mostly ignored me but after a while the girls always tried to buy me something like a dress or lipstick and I know guys wear that but they weren’t trying to be nice, they were trying to change me.”

T’Challa inhaled, pushing the anger that swelled with Damien’s words down so deep that he felt it in his gut before he exhaled, forcing himself to let go of the feeling because his anger would help neither of them.

“They were foolish…” he started but Damien shook his head.

“Nah, Erik might date crazy but he doesn’t date stupid people.”

T’Challa snorted at that, “Anyone who thought they could change you is foolish, no matter what Erik dates.”

Damien rocked a little at that, his lips ticking up into a tiny smile that had something warm blossoming in T’Challa’s chest.

“So I just keep getting the meds but what about surgery?” Damien enquired and this time T’Challa was the one who smiled because there was something new in the teen’s voice, something that sounded a lot like hope.

“Is it something you want?” T’Challa asked and Damien nodded, still not meeting T’Challa’s eyes.

“Then it is your decision and we will support you,” he responded, holding Damien’s gaze when the boy’s head jerked up. “You will never want for something that I can provide,” he promised, holding out a hand and when Damien hesitated before he held his own out, allowing T’Challa to clasp his forearm in a warrior’s handshake.

Damien nodded again and T’Challa settled back.

“So, what were you doing anyway?” Damien asked, obviously sidestepping any more emotional discussions.

“Meditating,” T’Challa responded. “My Baba taught me,” he explained. “When I was younger I was quick to temper and I held my tongue less than I should have.”

“Sounds like me,” Damien laughed and T’Challa grinned at him.

“You do remind me of myself,” he confirmed, ignoring the way that Damien’s eyes widened. “Meditation is a way of centering myself. It helps me let go of the feelings that I do not need and focus on the silence of my mind. It’s much easier to make good decisions when you’re not burdened by regrets from yesterday.”

“And anybody can learn it?” Damien asked.

“Would you like to?” T’Challa enquired in turn and Damien’s nod had him grinning.

It was a start.

*O*

Erik didn’t have to tell him that he’d spoken to Damien; T’Challa could see it in the half-hidden glances Erik kept shooting his way. He could see it in the way that Erik’s shoulders refused to leave the safety of his ears and the frown that seemed to be permanently etched onto the man’s face.

T’Challa employed the same approach he’d applied to Damien, keeping his eyes on his work, only breaking off whenever Kyra made a soft noise in her sleep. He dared anyone to tell him that his office didn’t look just as professional as it always had despite the baby carrier now strategically positioned so it took up the majority of his desk.

“He didn’t tell me, you know?” Erik finally offered up and T’Challa let the screen ion the latest figures Shuri had sent go dark as he focused on him. “If he’d told me I’d have kicked their asses out and he knew that.”

“Which was probably why he didn’t tell you,” T’Challa pointed out. “Children are often much more empathic than we realize. I’m sure he was only worrying about your happiness.”

Erik huffed out a breath as he slumped in his seat, “Man, if I ever go stateside I’m fucking a lot of people up.”

“If you do I’m sending Okoye to pay your bail,” T’Challa deadpanned, watching Erik’s expression change from anger to horror in the blink of an eye.

“That’s cold,” Erik muttered petulantly but he didn’t say anything else because T’Challa was sure that he knew it’d be no less than he deserved. As adults it was up to them to set an example for Damien, even if the teen seemed to be wiser than both of them combined despite his prickly exterior.

Kyra sighed in her sleep, fingers curling and uncurling around the bracelet she’d been playing with before she drifted off and T’Challa let his gaze rest on her for a moment before glancing at Erik.

“Did I ever say ‘thank you’?” he asked.

“For what?” Erik frowned, instantly on the defensive and T’Challa wondered just when he’d fallen in love with the prickly creature.

“For giving me the chance to be a part of your family…” he responded. He didn’t say ‘for not hating me enough to ruin everything. For giving me a chance to give you a chance’ but Erik looked like he heard it all regardless.

“Didn’t really have a choice, you’re sorta hard to keep at a distance, you know?” Erik snorted, chuckling ruefully when T’Challa smirked.

“Tell me more, fiancé,” he prodded, beaming when Erik rolled his eyes at the imitation of his accent.

“You’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

“It was impressive,” T’Challa admitted. “I was sure that mama was going to kill you for the disrespect of it all.”

“Good thing she didn’t or you’d have missed out on all of this,” Erik shot back, gesturing towards himself and T’Challa had to fight the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. This was the man he’d chosen to marry and he didn’t regret a second of it.

*O*

Ornette was the next one to approach him with Trey trailing behind her as nonchalantly as he could.

“I’m good at physics and chemistry but I always wanted to do something in the stars,” she told him as she matched his stride, not bothering to ask where he was heading. “Before all of this went down, I wanted to be an astrophysicist, I still do.”

“You want to go back to school,” T’Challa guessed and Ornette nodded, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’ll get a job…” she responded, glancing at him. “That’s not me having a dig or trying to guilt trip you into something. I liked paying my own way, I want to keep doing it on my own merit, you know? I mean I’m not too proud to beg when it comes to textbooks and stuff but I want to do this on my own, you know?”

T’Challa nodded, glancing back at Trey, “And you?” he prompted.

Trey shrugged, “I mean if you’re handing out wishes you could give me tips on how to flirt with a cute guy.”

Ornette snorted at that, “He can take anything apart and learn how it ticks before you can say ‘who’s there’,” she responded.

“I mean I’m not picky, you could totally start with trying to set me up with Damien,” Trey offered up, completely ignoring his sister.

“He’s also had the biggest crush on Damien since he noticed boys…ignore him, he doesn’t need any help with that.”

“I’d totally try the whole ‘notice me, senpai’ thing but he’s got some serious eyebrows of doom going on and I can’t handle that level of disappointment…” Trey added, staring up at T’Challa. “Help a brother out.”

“I’m not very good at being romantic,” T’Challa admitted. “I would think Erik would be the better person to ask.”

Ornette and Trey snorted at that, “I don’t know who lied to you but Erik has the opposite of game,” Ornette laughed.

*O*

After that, it was like the floodgates had opened and T’Challa was tripping over children wherever he went.

Sasha and Tasha were his little shadows, watching him whenever he trained and T’Challa had caught several of the Dora Milaje eying the girls in turn as they roughhoused, trying to copy his moves.

Marcus often accompanied Damien to T’Challa’s meditation sessions and he settled into it as easily as breathing. T’Challa wasn’t surprised to find that Marcus was often the voice of reason behind whatever chaos the other children tried to manage.

Kevin, Tracy and Michael had set up a small studio in T’Challa’s section of the labs and the easels he suspiciously had lying around were constantly covered in splashes of colour that made the space feel more like a home than a work space as the siblings cracked jokes and tried to drag him into their trash talking competitions.

“You’re way too serious, you’ve gotta live a little,” Tracy had informed him as her younger brothers nodded in agreement.

Aneka had muttered something about hippy children but none of the three took offense.

All in all, T’Challa was having the time of his life…Erik on the other hand was apparently not.

“My blue balls have blue balls,” Erik had hissed once in passing as Aneka dragged him off somewhere and T’Challa could have felt bad for him…probably should have but he was enjoying himself much too much for Erik’s melodrama to dampen his spirits.

*O*

“You were never one for the simpler things,” Ramonda laughed, combing her fingers through Kyra’s hair as the little girl drew in a book on her lap. T’Challa was silent as he watched his mother twist cornrows that looked magic from the dark strands. “You do realize that I said grandchild, as in singular?”

“Are you complaining?” T’Challa teased and Ramonda snorted.

“Of course not, I’m the envy of my circle,” she laughed, putting a final twist into the cornrow before tucking it under to protect the fragile ends of Kyra’s hair.

“Can I get an undercut?” Kevin yelled and T’Challa cocked a brow when he realized that the question was directed at him.

“Ask Erik,” he replied and the group of children groaned as one.

“You’re supposed to be the cool parent,” Aneka groused.

“Cool acting parent, completely not related by blood because not all of us are related by blood,” Trey cut in and another set of groans erupted from the group as Damien frowned at them in confusion.

“Why do you keep saying that?” he asked and Trey froze like a deer in headlights.

“Uh, no reason,” he muttered while Aneka cackled.

Shaking his head at them, he turned back to his mother only to find her watching him with a small smile.

“And how is N’Jadaka?” she asked, the look on her face sly.

“Busy as we all are,” T’Challa responded.

“You know it’s never good when the answer to that question is ‘busy’,” Ramonda chided. “Do not forget that of everything else that you are, you are also his partner.”

T’Challa hummed at that but said nothing, the last thing he wished to admit to his mother was that he’d bribed Shuri to keep the children busy for the rest of the day so that he could spend some time with his fiancé.

Erik wasn’t the only one suffering from their separation.

*O*

“You wanted to see me?” Erik asked entering T’Challa’s room like he belonged there and considering that he hadn’t slept in his own bed for months he probably did.

T’Challa had plans; he’d transformed one of the unused offices into a private dining experience. He’d spent hours finding all things Erik would have liked but everything slid from his mind as he stood to meet Erik and the smirk on Erik’s face said he knew as much.

The door had barely slid shut behind him when Erik was stepping into his space and T’Challa leaned back against his table, letting the man approach.

“I always want to see you,” he responded, his lips curling into a mirroring smirk and Erik snorted, hands reaching out only to pause as he searched T’Challa’s face.

T’Challa wasn’t sure what he saw there but it had his fingers curling around T’Challa’s waist as he took another step closer, his breath ghosting across T’Challa’s skin like a kiss in itself.

“You think you’re slick,” Erik laughed.

“I know I am,” T’Challa rebutted, hand rising to tangle in Erik’s hair, fingers curling there as he held Erik’s gaze.

He straightened until he was standing, tugging lightly at the hair between his fingers and hummed at Erik’s groan of pleasure.

Erik pulled against the grip and T’Challa swallowed his next moan, their lips pressed together so lightly it could barely be called a kiss but it somehow felt so much more intimate than anything T’Challa had ever done.

Sharp teeth grazed his lower lip and this time T’Challa was the one who groaned, stepping backwards at Erik’s urging, never once breaking their kiss as he licked into Erik’s mouth, letting the other man guide him until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

He barely managed a breath as he pulled away and sat down before Erik was climbing into his lap, fingers urging T’Challa’s head back up and kiss swollen lips recapturing his own like it was the only thing Erik could do.

T’Challa’s hands slipped beneath Erik’s shirt, following the flex of muscles as Erik’s hips rolled like a wave, cresting in a gasp when he ground against the plane of T’Challa’s stomach.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt and T’Challa gave up the feeling of skin under his hands so that Erik could slide the shirt off his shoulders, watching the man as he pulled back, dark eyes flickering over T’Challa’s face.

There were words that T’Challa could say, things that he’d used before but no words seemed worth breaking the moment.

Erik pulled his own shirt over his head and T’Challa didn’t need words anymore.

He twisted, spilling Erik on the bed, beaming at the sharp bark of laughter his actions gained him. His trousers were a small obstacle that he quickly overcame before crawling up the bed, following Erik just in time to watch the man’s pants go sailing off the bed.

“Come here,” Erik demanded and T’Challa complied without thought, straddling Erik’s hips.

“You called, fiancé?” he taunted, biting his lip when instead of answering Erik moved so that he could shove his boxers down.

The man’s cock slapped against his stomach, hard. T’Challa kept his eyes on Erik as he reached for it, fingers curling around the hard, pulsing member.

“Fuck,” Erik whispered, head tossed back against the pillows and T’Challa let the siren’s call of his throat pull him in, dipping down to nip at the unmarked skin as his thumb spread the pre-cum beading the tip of Erik’s cock.

Erik’s hand on his ass almost made him lose his rhythm until Erik shifted, pressing his thigh between T’Challa’s legs and it was easy to move, to grind his own erection against the limb, eyes falling shut while his hand matched the tempo of his hips.

Erik’s fingers dug into the flesh of his ass and T’Challa knew that if he’d been anyone else it would have left bruises that wouldn’t be gone the next morning, like shadows giving way to the day.

The thought had him setting his teeth to Erik’s skin and he could feel the man’s moan against his lips as he soothed the hurt.

The marks might leave but he was determined to bury himself deep beneath Erik’s skin, to find a home somewhere he couldn’t be pulled from.

Pausing he pulled back, licking the salty remnants of Erik’s pleasure from his palm when Erik blinked up at him.

“What do you want?” he asked intent on giving Erik only what he needed and nothing less.

“Anything you wanna give me,” Erik replied instantly and T’Challa wanted to give the man the world but that wasn’t something even he could accomplish.

Instead he slipped away just far enough to get his own underwear off and when he retook his position Erik’s eyes tracked him steadily, watching as T’Challa took one of his hands and guided it behind him.

Erik didn’t need instruction, his fingers burning a scorching line from the dip of T’Challa’s back down the cleft of his ass.

T’Challa held still even when Erik’s eyes widened at the slickness he found as his thumb circled T’Challa’s hole.

Erik’s gaze snapped up to his and T’Challa let his eyes fall close as Erik took the invitation he’d given him, one long finger pressing lightly where T’Challa wanted him the most.

Arching his back, T’Challa twisted into it, teeth clenched tight around the snarl rumbling from his chest when Erik’s fingers slipped inside, welcome and wanted.

“Fuck,” Erik whispered again and T’Challa snorted, the sound twisting into a groan when another finger pressed against him.

“’Challa, you’ve gotta tell me what you want,” Erik pleaded and when T’Challa opened his eyes the man was watching him with something that look a lot like awe in his eyes.

“Anything you’re willing to give,” T’Challa replied, throwing Erik’s words back at him as his hand found Erik’s cock. Erik’s brows furrowed as he shivered at the touch. “What are you willing to give me?” T’Challa asked.

Erik’s smile was sharp and full of teeth as he pulled his fingers away, hands once again falling to T’Challa’s hips. “If you want it come get it,” he teased and it was easy then, easy to shift up until the head of Erik’s cock was pressed against him, easy to push back into the burn and stretch as Erik’s fingers dug into his hips.

T’Challa stared sightlessly at the ceiling as he twisted his hips, jerking forward before grinding down until he was sitting his Erik’s lap, the cock inside him spreading him wide.

It felt like Erik was inside him in more than just the most obvious way and T’Challa couldn’t help his gasp when Erik sat up, tugging his head down and the next sound was lost between the press of their lips.

T’Challa wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, couldn’t tell if Erik had thrust up as he ground down or if it had all happened at the same time.

It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, not when Erik was trembling beneath him, hips working like a well-oiled machine and T’Challa had spent so long learning Erik that it was easy to learn this too.

It was slow, not as frantic as T’Challa had come to expect from their past trysts. The press of Erik’s fingers moving up his spine felt like more than just a caress as did the pressure against the spot where he wanted Erik the most.

“Like that, beloved,” T’Challa groaned, burying his face in Erik’s shoulder as the man’s hands dropped to his ass, twisting his hips in perfect counterpoint to T’Challa’s.

T’Challa’s skin felt too tight for his body and he sucked in a sharp breath while he dipped his fingers down to brush them against the place where he was connected to Erik, teeth grinding when one of Erik’s hands found his own cock jerking it fast and smooth just like T’Challa liked.

He didn’t remember getting his teeth on Erik’s skin, didn’t remember clawing at the man’s back as he ground into it, taking the pleasure so freely given to him as the world caught fire around their bed.

The pleasure clawed its way up his spine until nothing but Erik existed and T’Challa’s world splintered, caught between his own ecstasy and Erik’s as the world shattered around them.

*O*

T’Challa wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he forced his eyes open, his gaze finding Erik’s prone body and he snorted at the look of bliss on the man’s face.

The sound had Erik’s eyes opening, his lips twitching into a grin.

“I suppose we should tell the tailors that white garments won’t be needed for our wedding,” T’Challa snickered and Erik laughed.

“You’re fucking awful, you know that?” he shot back but the fingers that found T’Challa’s across the inches of sheet separating them said otherwise.

It was enough…more than enough.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Marriage is a joining of more than the body; it is a joining of the soul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, someone send good thoughts to my beta because the fact that she hasn't offed me yet is an actual miracle...I'm sorry!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the delay, I hate ending stories and I will avoid it to the ends of time, no lie. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and left kudos on this story. It's been an adventure and you guys made it worth it.

“Marriage is a joining of more than the body; it is a joining of the soul.”

His Baba’s words slipped from T’Challa’s lips like a mantra as he moved around the small room, fingers brushing over the clothing that had been laid out for him.

The room was unfamiliar to him, as it was supposed to be. Only those who were to be wed ever entered the small dwelling and T’Challa took in the markings on the ceiling and walls, etches of Bast and her warriors taking flight, with his grandmother and Baba at their heels. It was fitting that those were the visions the priestess had chosen for him because the mantle of the Black Panther had shaped his entire life. Without it he wouldn’t have any of what he had now and despite his loss he wouldn’t give up a single thing.

 The thought had his gaze flickering to the door to his right that led to a room that had been constructed just for Erik.

He wondered what Erik’s room looked like…as long as it was nothing like that apartment T’Challa knew that Erik would accept it gratefully.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he returned to his own preparations. If he listened closely he could hear Erik swearing up a storm on the other side of the door but it sounded like the man’s usual mutterings so T’Challa paid them little mind…at least he tried to until something collided with the door and he was moving before he knew it.

“Erik?”

“I’m good, I’m good. Who the fuck made this shit? Is this their way of saying they’d rather kill me than let me marry you?” Erik groused and T’Challa snorted.

“Exaggeration will get you nowhere,” he laughed, “You were there when every piece was selected.”

“I was distracted,” Erik shot back without a second’s hesitation and T’Challa could picture the displeased expression that was probably stretched across his face.

“Perhaps next time you will think with your brain and not your…”

“If you say dick, we’re gonna have beef ‘cause if I remember correctly it was your dick that was the problem.”

“My “dick”…”

“I love the fact that I can actually hear the quotation marks,” Erik interrupted but T’Challa ignored him.

“…has never been a problem,” he finished and the silence from the other side of the door was telling. He was sure that Erik was either trying to glare at him or flipping him off.

The silence stretched on for so long that T’Challa almost left Erik to it when the man spoke again.

“You know I’m all in on this, right?” Erik asked and T’Challa moved closer, turning around so that the door was at his back before he sat down.

He’d expected this, Erik had a way of being glib when he was working through something and the peace during the preparations had had warning bells going off in T’Challa’s head but he knew that it wasn’t his place to force Erik to say what he wanted to.

Something touched the other side of the door and T’Challa closed his eyes, a small smile curling his lips because they were so alike that it was almost terrifying.

“I know that some of the shit that I did…I know people still haven’t forgiven me for that and I get that but…”

“I would not marry someone I didn’t trust,” T’Challa pointed out.

“You’d marry your worst fucking enemy if it meant that Wakanda would survive so don’t give me that shit,” Erik shot back, his voice so close that T’Challa could almost feel the heat of his skin.

“And you would swallow your pride and suffer in silence for your family. I’d be careful of your glass house before you start lobbing stones,” T’Challa retorted, lips ticking up into a smile when Erik snorted.

“I wish I’d known you before,” Erik whispered and T’Challa opened his eyes, tracing the panthers on the ceiling. “The shit I did…I don’t deserve a happy ending. Never really thought I’d get one if I’m honest. I just wanted to see it once, you know? My old man used to take about the sunsets here like they were something magical and…” Erik trailed off.

T’Challa clenched his teeth around the words clawing at his throat because Erik needed this. He didn’t need words of sympathy or pity, he needed to tell his story, needed to be heard and it was the least T’Challa could do.

“By the time I found out how to get here there was already so much blood on my hands that I didn’t think I deserved it but I just wanted to see it, just one time before I died.”

“It was a suicide mission?” T’Challa breathed and the laugh that echoed from Erik was a dark, broken thing.

“I was going to just walk up in here and challenge a king? I thought I’d get shot on sight but I had to try for my old man ‘cause I promised him that much.”

“Zuri knew what he was doing, he would have forgiven you,” T’Challa whispered because it was the truth no matter how much it’d hurt him to admit it at first.

“Fuck,” Erik laughed and T’Challa closed his eyes again so he could just listen to Erik breathe, the sound shaky and uncertain through the barrier separating them.

“You ever gonna let me just wallow?” he asked after a moment that felt like an eternity.

“In sickness and in health, is that not what your marriages vow? I’m almost certain that wallowing is included,” T’Challa laughed though the sound wasn’t any steadier than Erik’s.

“What do you guys say?” Erik asked and T’Challa grinned.

“Until our bodies become dust and Bast reclaims our soul, I will hold your hand tight and leave the other free for your own pursuits,” the words flowed easily from T’Challa’s tongue and he rocked slightly as he pictured it, both of them standing before his people. “I will walk with you in the land of our ancestors; your pain will be mine and mine yours. Your name will be seared onto my heart beyond its last beat and every moment shared will be a gift…”

“What even when we fight ‘cause you’ve got a smart mouth and that shit won’t go down well all the time,” Erik choked out but T’Challa didn’t call him out on the way that his voice wavered.

“Under the gaze of Bast you will be my truth and I yours.”

“Fuck off,” Erik groused and T’Challa turned so that Erik’s voice was even closer than before. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“Those are our vows,” T’Challa grinned. “It’s also our promise; it’s why our engagements last so long. Divorces are almost unheard of in Wakanda, when we marry it’s for love or not at all.”

“But you agreed to it when we hated each other,” Erik pointed out, his voice so quiet that without his enhanced hearing T’Challa would have missed it.

“We don’t only marry for romantic love,” T’Challa responded, his eyes locked on the form of his Baba, “And I have hated only two men in my life…you were never one of them.”

Erik was silent and T’Challa let him be.

“Guess we’re getting married then,” Erik muttered, unaware or probably completely aware of T’Challa’s grin because he could hear the words Erik wasn’t saying…he hoped Erik had heard what he hadn’t said too.

*O*

When T’Challa had imagined standing at his own ceremony, he’d pictured Nakia at his side and not in the crowd grinning up at him but as his gaze flickered from Nakia to Erik he knew that this was Bast’s plan and he didn’t regret a single second of it.

Everything that they’d gone through, the grief, the tears and the smiles woven with the fragile shards of forgiveness it had all led to this moment and T’Challa wanted to imprint the memory of it deep in his mind.

Erik’s gaze moved back to his and T’Challa cocked his head, a soft smile curling his lips as he tightened his fingers around Erik’s.

The sun blazed behind the man, setting the tips of his hair on fire and while T’Challa would miss Erik’s dreads, the sight of his curls haloing his head was something that he wasn’t willing to part with. It explained what he’d been doing with Shuri all morning when T’Challa had been busy trying to organize their children.

The thought had him glancing at the crowd again and Kyra waved at him from where she was perched on Aneka’s hip. In the back of his head he could hear the council’s voices reminding him of etiquette and proper behaviour…it didn’t keep him from waving back.

“What are we waiting on?” Erik whispered and T’Challa blinked innocently at him, or as innocently as he could with a smirk on his face because the words had barely left his mouth when the sun started to set, sending a riot of colours flowing over them.

Erik froze, his eyes rising to the sky and T’Challa didn’t know how he could still look at the sunset like that after so many months on Wakanda.

The sound that clawed its way from Erik’s chest was the wrong side of a laugh and when he shifted forward, T’Challa moved to meet him, ignoring the scandalized gasp of the priestess as Erik’s cheek brushed against his.

The soft brush of his curls had T’Challa closing his eyes while Erik chuckled. “Whatever anybody else says you’ve got some mad game.”

Erik was still smiling when he stepped back and T’Challa held out his left arm, waiting until Erik clasped it with his right while the fingers of their other hand stayed entwined before turning to the priestess.

He barely heard the words from her mouth, couldn’t quite remember reciting his vows as Erik copied him. What he remembered was Erik’s smile and the way Erik’s eyes barely left his face. He hadn’t noticed but Erik looked at him like he looked at Wakanda’s sunsets and something in T’Challa’s chest soared at the thought, taking flight when Erik tugged him closer so he could bury his face in his shoulder a second before they were tackled by their children, all thoughts of ceremony trampled under their feet.

Plucking Kyra from Aneka, T’Challa laughed as Damian eyed the battered flowers that Trey was all but shaking in his face with trepidation.

Neither of them had ever said the words but as Erik beamed at him over Aneka and Ornette’s head he couldn’t help but think that this was a lot like love.

Shuri knocked against his shoulder, the grin on her face so wide it looked like it hurt and T’Challa found himself copying the expression almost automatically.

“So how does it feel to be married to the spawn of Satan?” she inquired, her expression not shifting even when T’Challa failed to hide his snort at the dirty look that Erik shot at the back of her head.

“Can’t be much different than being related to one,” Erik shot back but Shuri’s grin just widened as she rounded on him.

“Brother-in-law, I didn’t feel you breathing down the back of my neck. How are you? Feeling the strains of marriage yet?” she beamed, “You know that we don’t really have divorces here. Instead you just make your spouse disappear…”

“Shuri,” T’Challa sighed as Erik’s eyes narrowed.

“There anything in your culture about annoying little sisters disappearing too?” he demanded.

Shuri tsked, “You could only hope to be as wonderful as I am. Now move, I only came over here to find the sane one of your brood.”

“Marcus is with mama,” T’Challa pointed out, ignoring the pointed rolled eyes.

“She means Kyra,” Damien pointed out and T’Challa glanced down at the little girl in his arms only to find her watching him solemnly…to be fair, he couldn’t really disagree. Kyra was the sanest of them all.

“So when do we get to the important bit of the wedding…you know the food?” Michael piped up, yelping when Tracy slapped him upside the head.

“Seriously, that’s what’s important?”

“I could eat,” Sasha muttered, hiding behind her sister when Tracy glowered at her. “You can’t force us to starve because you want to be romantic…I’m too young for romance, all I care about is food, sleep and more food because naps take it out of me.”

“You sure you’re not regretting tying yourself to this,” Erik muttered, sidling up beside him.

T’Challa didn’t respond, not that Erik would be able to hear it over the squabbling.

A question like that didn’t need a response…T’Challa was right where he needed to be.

He kept silent even as his mama approached them, her smile serene despite the fact that Erik almost jumped out of his skin when she touched him.

“N’Jadaka,” she greeted and Erik eyed her, his fingers twitching at his sides the only sign of how nervous he truly was. “Once I told you that you were my family in name alone, now I name you as my son in every aspect that matters.”

Erik’s jaw worked for a moment, his fingers curling into fists but when Ramonda stepped forward Erik met her step for step, letting her engulf him in an embrace that was as familiar to T’Challa as breathing.

“So does this mean I can’t call you Auntie anymore?” Erik taunted and Ramonda snorted tugging at his curls once before she released him and turned to T’Challa, arms wide and he stepped into her embrace without hesitation, laughing softly when she stole Kyra from his arms.

“I was wrong,” Ramonda whispered as she stepped back and T’Challa didn’t have to ask what she was wrong about instead he stepped away knocking into Erik as he watched her corral his brood towards a rather sour faced woman.

“Why’s it look like she’s gloating?” Erik asked.

“Because she is,” Shuri snorted, waving at them before heading into the crowd.

“She’s a good woman,” Erik finally muttered and T’Challa nodded in agreement even as he curled their fingers together and tugged Erik along.

The sooner they got the blessing and greetings over with the sooner they could leave.

*O*

T’Challa had often imagined his wedding night as one of endless passion and devotion. He hadn’t quite imagined barely crawling into bed, shoving impatiently at Erik’s sprawled form so he could get comfortable but when he opened his eyes later, he didn’t find it in him to regret it.

He hadn’t realized just how tired he had been until now. The thought had his gaze flickering to the windows, brows furrowing at the darkness there. He always woke at dawn, just as the sun was colouring the skies, the only exception was when there was a mission…unless an alarm woke him.

“Hello,” a familiar voice greeted him and T’Challa’s head snapped to the side only to find Kyra peering at him from the edge of the bed.

He was moving instantly, shifting so he could scoop her up and she came willingly, flopping against his chest like every bone in her body had vanished.

“Good morning, little one,” he whispered, careful to not wake Erik because the man needed his sleep.

Reaching for Kyra’s beads they both watched as the surveillance video he’d installed in them projected Kyra’s view as she made her way down the corridor, stopping every so often to greet another of the Dora Milaje and that answered the question of why she seemed to be their favourite.

Even Ayo dropped from her stance to greet her along her way but the video didn’t pause for too long as Kyra moved on, heading straight for their room.

“You’re a very smart girl,” T’Challa commended because he’d often gotten lost in building as a child but Kyra seemed to have had a built in map of exactly where to go.

For his efforts he got a hand over his mouth and a frown.

“Sleep now, please,” Kyra informed him and T’Challa had to struggle not to laugh because she looked very serious.

He’d barely closed his eyes when the doors to his room chimed, informing him that another of the children had entered his suite.

Cracking one eye open he watched as the twins all but tiptoed into the room.

“See, I told you they were sleeping,” Sasha hissed at her sister.

“But Kyra’s here and Erik said he wouldn’t be mad if we wanted to sleep here either,” Tasha retorted but the way she was clinging to Sasha’s hand belied the anger in her tone.

“Ya’ll think you’re whispering but you’re loud as hell,” Erik muttered, voice still muffled by his pillow and both girls stilled until he lifted a section of the sheet and suddenly there was a mad rush as they tried to bury themselves beneath Erik’s arm.

“That is three,” T’Challa mused, rubbing Kyra’s back when she stirred.

“Give them a little bit, we’re gonna end up with everybody in here,” Erik yawned.

Marcus’ head popped around the corner not a second after Erik’s words and T’Challa snorted at the sheepish look on the boy’s face even as he shifted to the side and Marcus didn’t seem to need any more encouragement though he was at least gentler about how he climbed on the bed.

“Just a heads up but Trey and Damien are right behind me,” Marcus offered when he was comfortable.

“And you didn’t wait for them?” Erik asked.

This time Marcus was the one who snorted, “And let them get the best space, yeah…no.”

“I heard we’re having a sleepover,” Trey announced, completely disregarding the fact that he was in someone else’s bedroom. “Move over peasants, I need my beauty sleep.”

“I’m not sure if I should take offence,” T’Challa yawned, watching as Damien slouched into the room, eyeing Trey like he was a particularly vicious piranha before turning to T’Challa who moved again so Damien could settle on is other side, away from the rest of the children.

He closed his eyes as the silence settled and when he opened them, Kevin was tucked right under his arm while his siblings were sprawled over Ornette’s sleeping form.

Aneka’s foot was almost in Trey’s face and T’Challa could just imagine the chaos that was going to erupt when they all woke up.

“You still good?”

Erik’s drawl had T’Challa’s lips ticking up into a smile as he glanced across and met the man’s gaze.

“I am better than I have ever been,” T’Challa replied honestly because this was where he was meant to be. In the morning, he would be a king and a leader of his people but for now he was just T’Challa, nothing more, nothing less.


End file.
